


Shadow By My Side

by inkin_brushes



Category: VIXX
Genre: Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Homophobia, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Modern Mafia AU, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, neo pining, the neo is the slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 82,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkin_brushes/pseuds/inkin_brushes
Summary: It's been five years since Hakyeon seized control of the Cha family, and with it, a third of the city.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> soooo here it is. the mafia au i have been writing since august 2016. it is still not finished but fuck it. the scentist mv has fucking guns in it. what am i supposed to do, NOT post the fic i wrote where vixx have lots of guns? come on. 
> 
> this is rara writing (not ela, who is writing incarnadine). i'll be posting new chapters when i've finished writing a later one (i'm about 14 ahead right now), so there'll not be any consistent posting schedule but i'm hoping to post relatively regularly. updates will usually come at the weekends, since i work full time during the week.
> 
> an alternative summary for this fic would just be "Hakyeon, a Slytherin."

Sanghyuk opened the door for Hakyeon’s three o’clock appointment. The man, Park, shuffled in, his shoulders slumped, expression typical of the people who were summoned to Hakyeon’s private office. Sanghyuk closed the door behind him and directed him towards one of the leather couches in the center of the room, pleasantly professional.

Hakyeon watched as Park glanced over Sanghyuk’s frame, taking in the juxtaposition of Sanghyuk’s height, the broadness of his shoulders, versus the traces of baby fat still just clinging to his jawline, lingering in his cheeks. His obvious youth, as if Hakyeon had decided to let his baby cousin work for the business as a favor. As if he was maybe, not too much of a threat. 

It was impossible to see any sign of the Glock G43 at Sanghyuk’s hip under the newly tailored suit Hakyeon sent him out for last week. That was largely the reason Hakyeon had ordered for it.

But even if Sanghyuk, with his hidden ammunition and youthful face, was easy to be underestimated, Taekwoon was another matter. As Park took his offered seat, his eyes skittered over to Taekwoon, standing silently in the corner. Taekwoon glowered, which was his normal facial expression, and squared his shoulders. On anyone else, it would be nothing more than a useless show of aggression, but on Taekwoon it was genuinely intimidating. Those shoulders were impressive, to say the least. Park looked back at Hakyeon, swallowing audibly. 

Hakyeon smiled at him pleasantly, knowing he looked intimidating in his own right. He shuffled some papers idly and then stood so he could come around his desk, sit down opposite Park. The dark wood coffee table that stood between them had been brought from his father’s office in the secondary family house when Hakyeon had moved here. It was obnoxiously expensive-looking, which pleased Hakyeon.

“Mr Park,” Hakyeon said, resting his hands in his lap. “Could I offer you something to drink? Tea, perhaps? Sanghyuk can fetch it for us.” 

“No, sir,” said Park. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair at the temples and the beginnings of a belly growing at his waist. It was not the first time Hakyeon had met him; Park owned a restaurant by the river, close to Choi property. As a rule Hakyeon made it a priority to frequent the legitimate businesses that operated in his territory, to keep their relationship good, but this was the first time he’d summoned Park to the family house. Park looked suitably terrified, small beads of sweat appearing over the bald patches on his head. 

“Very well.” Hakyeon waved a hand at Sanghyuk in dismissal. Sanghyuk inclined his head and left, closing the door to the office behind himself without making a sound, just like he’d been trained. He was good at it, for all he’d complained that he’d been hired as a bodyguard, not a secretary. Park glanced back at Taekwoon, probably stupidly wondering why he was still in the room, but Hakyeon ignored it. “I understand you’re having some problems with regards to your business and some Choi thugs?”

It was usually not the Choi family that caused Hakyeon trouble, but the Lees, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. The Choi family were rarely on Hakyeon’s radar; their families’ relations generally could be summed up as “the enemy of my enemy isn’t worth my time.” But Park sat there and candidly detailed a litany of all the ways the Choi family was affecting his business, his nervousness gradually dissipating as he continued to speak for the better part of ten minutes. 

Hakyeon had to admit that it sounded very trying, to have young men with guns traipsing in and out of one’s place of business, affecting one’s work and turning away regulars. Park hired people only to have them quit hours later. His two daughters, both in their teens, were being harassed by the men, groped and made uncomfortable to the point where the youngest refused to come into the restaurant any more. All in all, it sounded like a nightmare. 

When Park finished, looking more relaxed and comfortable than he had when he first came in, Hakyeon let the silence hang for a moment or two. Then he said, “And what do you expect me to do about it, Mr Park?” 

Park blinked at him. “Do? Well, I was hoping you could send some guys around, to scare the Choi men away.” His eyes slid over to Taekwoon, a little critical, as if he was imagining the potential success of Taekwoon protecting his business. 

Hakyeon had been reclining back against the back of the couch. Now he leaned forward, crossing one leg across the other and leaning his left elbow on his knees. “Well, you see, Mr Park, we do have a problem there. I would happily send some men in to help out, but you haven’t been paying your duties like you should and therefore I don’t see why I have any obligation to help you out.” 

Park was surprised, which lowered Hakyeon’s estimation of the man. It was sheer stupidity to come in to see the head of a family and expect them to not know about all the other— well, _shit_ you were up to. He hadn’t taken Park for an actual fool. “I— I don’t know—” 

“Do not play stupid with me,” Hakyeon said, keeping his posture and tone casual. “In your yearly audits, you claimed that your restaurant makes barely any profit. I know this to be false. You know the rules. Twenty percent of all profit in my territory comes to me. In return, my men look after you. We don’t have any nasty accidents or tragic raids.” 

Park went pale, and spluttered for a few seconds, possibly in affected indignance. Hakyeon wondered if he’d thought he could get away with it, that he was such small fry that Hakyeon wouldn’t notice the false paperwork, the lies. If so, he’d greatly misunderstood the type of person Hakyeon was. Hakyeon was efficient. He had to be.

Once Park was done with his theatrics, moping at his sweating brow, he said, “I don’t understand, twenty percent _does_ go to you—” 

“In the last year,” Hakyeon intoned, remembering the words printed tidily in all the files he’d been given, “your daughters have both attended one of the best private schools in the city. I know how good it is, I went to the brother school. You and your family take vacations out of the country multiple times a year. Your wife, who does not work, owns a Lexus. I thought that was funny, for a man whose only business barely survives each year. When my men looked into it, we found that you were turning a rather tidy profit. Quite a lot larger, I would say, than any restaurant should. I know my own territory, Mr Park. I know how much you should be making. Which brings me onto my second problem.” 

Out of the corner of Hakyeon’s eye, Taekwoon— he didn’t move, per se, he was simply breathing, but Hakyeon sensed satisfaction in it. Satisfied breathing. After all, it had been Taekwoon, as it so often was, who’d seen the information fettered out. 

Park was sweating profusely now, bright red spots on each cheek. His eyes darted from Taekwoon, to the door, back to Hakyeon, and then repeated the process in erratic movements. Hakyeon straightened, dropping any pretence at casual. “Mr Park,” he said. “How long have you been doing business with the Lee family?” 

Hakyeon was surprised Park didn’t pass out. It looked like it was close going. “I’m not—”

Hakyeon snorted. Park shut up. “Yes, you are. You have been for longer than I’d like to admit, seeing as how I’ve only become aware of it recently. The amount of money coming through your restaurant is far too high. It’s coming from somewhere else. Taekwoon?” 

Taekwoon, for all his size and intimidating aura, moved silently as a cat across the room to Hakyeon’s desk. He pulled out the bottle of whiskey from Hakyeon’s top drawer and set it down on the desk. The other hand he kept by his side. He hadn’t wanted to have the meeting in Hakyeon’s office, where the space was too small for guns and the escape routes limited to one. Hakyeon hadn’t been willing to budge so Taekwoon had found his own compromise and was merely keeping one hand close to his weapon at all times. 

“Does that look familiar?” Hakyeon asked, motioning to the whiskey bottle. Park opened his mouth but nothing came out other than a low moan that turned into a harsh rasp before he closed his mouth again. “The Lees were offering easy money, selling their products in your restaurant, giving you a cut of the profit. A profit I never saw. Don’t worry, I understand. Better men than you have succumbed to the siren call of wealth.” 

“Sir,” whispered Park. “Mr Cha, please—” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m letting you off,” Hakyeon said. He motioned to Taekwoon with a sharp movement and Taekwoon came around the desk and took hold of Park around the upper arm before Park could react or move. “Bring him to Jaehwan. Take his right index and middle fingers, then arrange for his family to be evicted. We’ll close the restaurant until we can find someone more loyal to look after it.” 

“Of course,” murmured Taekwoon. He hustled Park, protesting all the way, out of the room. Just before the door shut behind their backs, he heard Park begin to shout, the reality of the situation starting to wash over him. Even with the door shut, Hakyeon could still hear the sound of his voice, high and frantic, though he couldn’t make out the words. 

Hakyeon leaned back against the couch again, uncrossing his legs and exhaling. He didn’t like any part of this— the Lee family finding ways to funnel money through his area was bad enough, but the Choi thugs messing with his people, even if those people weren’t truly his, was too much. It was messy, and Hakyeon’s reputation couldn’t afford messy, after the way everything had begun. His reputation was the only thing he had to rely on.

Well, his reputation, and Taekwoon. 

When the sound of Park’s screaming had faded away, Sanghyuk knocked and stuck his head in the room. “What are you going to do with his fingers?” he asked, fascinated. 

“Feed them to you,” said Hakyeon wearily. “Now get the fuck out.” 

———

This was the last time he let Jaehwan choose the bar, Wonshik thought, as he pushed his way through crowds of people to the small table they’d managed to snag with strategic use of Jaehwan’s best crazy eyes and glimpses of Wonshik’s knuckle tattoos. Normally when they both had Friday night off, they went to the joint down the hill from the house, where it was quiet and the owners knew them and gave them free drinks, but Jaehwan had pouted and whined about wanting to go someplace new, until Wonshik gave in to just make him shut up. Stronger men than he would fall to Jaehwan’s pouting. 

As a consequence, they’d ended up at a hipster bar closer to the centre of the city, where things were, at least nominally, neutral. Wonshik suspected that Jaehwan’s sudden aversion to their usual bar had something to do with the fingers he’d cut off a man earlier that day and the fact that everyone knew where they drank. Nobody would dare go after Hakyeon for revenge, but Jaehwan was fairer game, and the man had two daughters. Either one of them could accost them at the bar with their tears. Jaehwan was unflappable about blood and screaming but he panicked when it came to people flatout crying at him. 

So here Wonshik was, pushing through people and getting knocked in the side by loose elbows, after waiting ten minutes to get served for drinks that he’d had to pay for like some chump. He was billing Jaehwan for this. 

He set the beers down on the table, pushing Jaehwan’s over to him. Jaehwan was watching a couple dance near them, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music blaring from the overhead speakers. Wonshik didn’t recognise it, but then it wasn’t his kind of music, too Top 40 for his liking. Jaehwan would probably protest that it wasn’t his kind of music, either, but Wonshik knew about his secret Pandora station. 

“Here,” Wonshik said, tapping the beer glass with his knuckles to get Jaehwan’s attention. “You owe me.” 

“Wonshik,” said Jaehwan, not even bothering to look at him, fiddling with the earring in his left ear, “you still owe me $500 after the incident with the girl at the docks. I think you’ll find that I don’t owe you anything.” 

Wonshik scowled, mostly because they’d agreed to not bring up the incident with the girl at the docks. “I hate this bar,” he said, in lieu of anything else to say. 

“I thought you might,” Jaehwan said. He stopped messing with his earring and started shredding the label on his beer bottle, his usual habit. His fingers moved in quick repetitive motions, a little faster than normal. “You hate anything with a bit of atmosphere.” 

That wasn’t true, Wonshik thought. He liked plenty of places with atmosphere; their usual bar had atmosphere. “I enjoy being able to hear myself think.” 

“I wasn’t aware you could think,” Jaehwan said tartly. 

Wonshik kicked him in the shin. It was testament to Jaehwan’s training that he merely winced, but he would have a bruise for a couple of weeks. Jaehwan marked as easily as a peach. Wonshik took some gratification in that. 

Wonshik sipped his beer, which was currently at a temperature that was approximately two minutes away from being disgustingly lukewarm. He wondered if he was supposed to drink it quickly so as to avoid such a fate. He gulped more of it down. Maybe the bar would seem better after a couple of fast pints. 

Jaehwan watched the dancing couple again, although his eyes were glazed, expression far away. He didn’t even blink when they started to kiss. Wonshik nudged him with his knee, careful to avoid the area he’d just kicked. Jaehwan shook his head to clear the cobwebs and turned to him, eyebrows raised in expectation. 

“You okay?” Wonshik asked, a little wary. Even though Jaehwan insisted on coming to places like this, he sometimes didn’t do too well in crowded rooms, where there was always a potential enemy that he couldn’t quite keep an eye on. 

“Yeah,” Jaehwan said, voice light. “I’m always okay.” 

That was a falsehood if there ever was one. “You seem kind of out of it. You thinking about that guy today?” 

“What guy? Oh, you mean—” Jaehwan bent the first two fingers on his right hand down towards his palm and waved his hand around in the air. Wonshik grimaced. “No, I wasn’t thinking about him, not really. He passed out in the middle of it, which at least stopped him begging so much. It grates on you, after a while.” 

Wonshik wouldn’t have put it like that; he had a high tolerance for blood and viscera but he was always at a distance from his victim, sometimes literally buildings away, looking through the scope of a sniper rifle. He did not like being up close and personal like Jaehwan so often was. He didn’t know if Jaehwan liked it either, necessarily, but that aspect didn’t seem to bother him much. Wonshik didn’t often watch his sessions. “So what were you thinking about?” 

Jaehwan picked up his drink and took a couple of sips, like he was mulling it over. When he put it back down on the sticky table he said, “That kid, the new one.” 

Wonshik thought for a moment, confused, and then said, “Oh, you mean— Sanghyuk?” He had never spoken to the kid before, just seen him outside Hakyeon’s office before Wonshik went in to see him. Too new, kept too busy, for Wonshik to have had any chance to feel him out yet. He looked vaguely familiar but Wonshik hadn’t been able to place him. “Hakyeon’s new project? What about him?” 

Something flickered over Jaehwan’s face. “He came down to my office afterwards and asked what I was going to do with the fingers.” 

Wonshik laughed, tickled at such childish antics. “What did you tell him?” 

“I told him I was going to use them in my satanic ritual on the next full moon and he could come along if he wanted.” Jaehwan had finished with the bottle label, the wet paper curled like pieces of orange rind in a pile on the table. Wonshik slid his old, empty bottle across to him, and Jaehwan started on that one. “He looked kind of disappointed. I think he wanted them.” 

“He sounds weird,” Wonshik said. That was nothing unusual, in this family. What was unusual was for a nobody, some kid that looked fresh out of high school, to waltz in and take up a position as trainee bodyguard for Hakyeon. It meant Taekwoon trusted him, at least, which counted for a lot in Wonshik’s eyes, but it had unnerved him when Sanghyuk first moved in, just a few weeks ago. “But then, that’s how Hakyeon likes them. It’s why he likes you.” 

“And Taekwoon.” Jaehwan fell silent, looking contemplative. Wonshik drank more of his beer. “Do you think they’re banging?” Jaehwan asked, surprisingly tentative. “Hakyeon and the new kid?” 

“No,” said Wonshik immediately, sure of his answer. What an odd thing to wonder about, if their boss was fucking his bodyguard. “Sanghyuk looks like he just got done with puberty. Hakyeon’s got bigger fish to fry. You know he doesn’t like having distractions on his quest for dominion of the universe.” An additional thought occurred to him. “Besides, you know he would be banging Taekwoon if he were banging anyone. New kid isn’t in the same league.” 

Jaehwan let out a bark of derisive laughter. “What league is that?” he asked, a little more disdainful than need be, like Wonshik had said something offensive. “Taekwoon is a robot. You can’t fuck a robot. They don’t have the apparatus.”

Wonshik didn’t bother chasing the obvious rabbit there. He saw the way Hakyeon and Taekwoon looked at one another when both of them thought no one would see. If Jaehwan hadn’t noticed it yet, it was his problem for being an idiot. So instead, Wonshik simply hummed, saying, “They’re building robots with dicks, you know. Fully functioning.” He’d read an article about it earlier that week, when he was supposed to be filing invoices with the businesses down at the docks for the protective services the Cha family provided. It had sounded like something out of a science fiction novel, so it had stuck in his brain. 

“Why do you know that?” Jaehwan asked, leering at him. “Trying to figure out how to finally get laid?”

“Fuck you, man,” said Wonshik. It came out almost weary; he was starting to think he was getting too old for these kinds of arguments, and he wasn’t sure why Jaehwan was being so prickly in the first place. “I don’t need a robot for that.” 

Jaehwan held up a finger, wagging it obnoxiously. “Buying a girl at Chang’s doesn’t count,” he said. 

Wonshik bit down on his first retort, which was to ask what the fuck Jaehwan even knew about buying a girl at Chang’s. The answer was nothing. But that was just because Jaehwan didn’t like girls. “I can get laid easily, Jaehwan.” 

“You want to prove it?” Jaehwan was smiling in that overly bright way of his that told Wonshik he was walking straight into a trap but damn if Wonshik hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor every time Jaehwan made him take a damn Hogwarts sorting test.

“Hell yeah I’ll prove it.” Wonshik spread his arm expressively around the room, gesturing at the mass of people crammed into this little hell pit. “Choose someone in this bar and I’ll pick them up.” 

Jaehwan’s eyes searched Wonshik’s face for a moment or two, then turned to scan the rest of the room. Truthfully there were a lot of people here Wonshik would have no chance with, and knew so— obviously straight men that couldn’t be lured away with Wonshik’s particular brand of endowments, people here with dates who would never stray. But those would be low blows, almost cheating, to pick, and Wonshik knew Jaehwan wouldn’t. That would end the game before it could begin.

Wonshik’s eyes skittered over the crowd, skipping past the people Jaehwan wouldn’t bother with, and spotted a large gaggle of women in the corner, some of them beautiful, some of them dressed up in an attempt at looking beautiful. They were a likely pick. The hard part would be marching up to the group, trying to get one of them to separate and dance with him. He was so focused on the women, expecting Jaehwan to direct him there, that it was a surprise when Jaehwan said, “There, standing at the bar in the green shirt. Trying to get the bartender’s attention.” 

Wonshik looked. It was a man, tall and slim, standing mostly with his back to them, although the edge of his face was almost in profile. He had brown hair, pushed back from his forehead in the kind of casually messy style that Jaehwan was forever trying to emulate. He leaned forward over the bar, emphasising the narrow point of his waist. The shirt was well fitted enough that Wonshik could see the play of muscles in his back. 

“Him?” Wonshik flicked his attention back to Jaehwan for a second. 

“Him,” said Jaehwan, grinning. 

There was something about that grin that pissed Wonshik off. It was as if he thought he’d already won. “Did you think I wouldn’t pick up a guy or something?” Wonshik asked, more heavily indignant than he’d intended. 

“Please, I know you better than to think that.” To his credit, Jaehwan looked slightly offended at the suggestion. “It’s just that three other guys have tried to buy him a drink in the past ten minutes and he rejected every one of them. Good luck.” 

Wonshik flipped him off before he stepped away from the table and headed to the bar. He leaned against it, bracing his elbows against the surface, trying to not think about the dampness seeping through his shirt, a few steps away from his target. He wasn’t good with words, like Jaehwan, or good at using his body, like Hakyeon. But he had other ways of getting people’s attention. 

He caught the bartender’s eye with a level of aggression that most bartenders probably weren’t used to. The man came to serve him immediately. Wonshik ordered another beer and then, with a casual motion to the man in the green shirt, added, “And whatever this guy is having, he’s been waiting here long enough.” 

The man turned to look at him for the first time. Wonshik felt his breath catch. He wasn’t used to finding men _beautiful_ — just because he liked to fuck them didn’t mean he always found them attractive in the same ways he did women. Wonshik had always considered his attraction to men as satisfying a more immediate need, to take something roughly in ways that he’d never felt comfortable doing with women. Not that women were the delicate fragile flowers people liked to make them out to be. But the truth remained that when he fucked men, he looked for very different things than when he fucked women. 

This stranger, though, was beautiful; it was the only word Wonshik could find to describe him, the kind of beautiful that put Wonshik in mind of marble statues in museums, of a muse inspiring great poetry and epics, the kind of beautiful that men would go to war for. Then the man scowled and he suddenly looked far more human. 

“I don’t need you to buy me a drink,” he said. His voice was deeper than Wonshik expected, but he should have known better than to judge by appearances, after knowing Taekwoon. 

“By all means, pay for it yourself,” Wonshik said. He kept his voice light and airy. He was good at picking people up but he didn’t usually do it for these reasons. It made figuring out a strategy somewhat difficult, because he felt a little guilty. But not guilty enough not to try; he’d be stupid to pass up the chance. “I just noticed that you’ve been standing here a while. What do you want?” 

The man hesitated. He looked suspicious and his eyes were scanning Wonshik up and down like he had terminator vision and could see through to Wonshik’s true self. After a moment he squinted but said, “Bourbon. On the rocks. And you’re paying.” 

Wonshik smiled. “Sure, if you’d like.” He turned his attention to the bartender, who was bustling about getting the drinks. He could feel his target’s eyes on him, watching. He fought the urge to hunch his shoulders. He wasn’t often sent on undercover things because he’d never quite picked up the habit of acting normally when he knew he was being watched, but he managed well enough. After a minute of allowing the man to take him in — Wonshik knew he was a lot, with the earrings and the tattoos — he turned back and held out his hand. “I’m Wonshik, by the way.” 

The man held out his own hand slowly and let Wonshik shake it. His hand was warm, and under the dim bar lights Wonshik’s tattoos looked blurry and not at all odd against the blank smooth skin of the man’s hand. “I’m Hongbin.” 

Pleased at coaxing a name out of him, Wonshik let go of Hongbin’s hand before the handshake could linger, keeping it polite and friendly. “Good to meet you. Do you come here often?”

Hongbin’s face shut down. “No.” 

“Me neither,” Wonshik said. His voice was still light. “It’s not my type of place. I prefer something quieter. But my buddy—” He waved in the vague direction of Jaehwan, who was probably watching him and cackling to himself. “He likes these kinds of places. He says they have more atmosphere.” 

“What they have,” Hongbin said, “are lines of cocaine being done in the bathroom.” 

He had the same kind of accent as Hakyeon on his best days, the upper crust kind of accent, but unsullied by the base tone Hakyeon usually adopted, the harsher vowels. Hongbin said cocaine the way someone else would say the word _cunt_ , with an air of disdain that struck Wonshik as particularly amusing. He had to struggle to keep himself from smiling. The accent coupled with the expensive shirt and the equally expensive, well-fitted pants, suggested to Wonshik that he was dealing with a rich boy very far from home. Wonshik had never had one of those before.

“Jaehwan would probably be interested in trying that,” he said. 

Hongbin pursed his lips, looking, for a moment, like a disapproving mother. “Your friend sounds very— strange,” he said. 

Wonshik grinned. “You’re not the first to say so.” 

The bartender put the drinks down in front of them and took Wonshik’s money. Hongbin pulled his drink across the bar towards him and then stood, turning it round and round with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t move away right off, but neither did he seem to know what to say. Wonshik ran through possible strategies in his head but soon grew tired. He did not like to trick people into bed with him, even under a pretense that was not really a pretense. If he fucked Hongbin, it wouldn’t actually have anything to do with Jaehwan’s bet. So Wonshik said, “I owe you an apology.” 

Hongbin tilted his head to the side. “You do?” 

“I came over here because my friend said that I’m bad at flirting and I wanted to prove him wrong, so he picked you out as someone for me to try to pick up,” Wonshik explained, and Hongbin was squinting at him now, glass held halfway up to his mouth. Wonshik forged on ahead. “He knew you’d reject me. I wanted to buy you a drink all the same.” 

“Well, you bought me one.” But Hongbin still didn’t move away. 

Wonshik pressed his advantage, turning his body so that he more fully faced Hongbin. “We could only see you from the back, I didn’t know you were so beautiful.” 

Hongbin set his drink back down on the bar. He didn’t look flattered, in fact he looked distinctly unimpressed, but not in a way that set Wonshik’s alarm bells off. “Hardly an original line.” 

Wonshik grinned. “I’m telling the truth though. As you can tell, I am very bad at flirting.” 

Hongbin was silent for a moment and then, purposely not looking at Wonshik, he said softly, “Not _that_ bad.” Then he shot Wonshik a quick, shy smile. He had a dimple at the corner of his mouth. 

Wonshik wanted him so badly so suddenly that it felt like a physical ache in his stomach. He couldn’t stop staring at that smile, the unsure edge of it. He had never seen someone so shockingly gorgeous in his life. 

He was staring. Hongbin’s smile became something stronger and he flicked his eyes at Wonshik, a little teasing. Wonshik felt himself turn pink as he jerked back into himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” said Hongbin. He sipped at his drink, watching Wonshik over the rim of his glass, the shadows of dimples just visible. “It’s more flattering than the lines.” 

“Yeah,” said Wonshik, maybe a bit dumbly. “I’m better at being a fool than I am at flirting.” 

Hongbin laughed. It was quiet but it was there. Wonshik took a quick step closer, so that he could feel Hongbin’s warmth, but they weren’t quite touching. The thought of this not going anywhere, of not knowing what Hongbin’s mouth tasted like, filled him with premature regret. “Do you want to finish this drink and go somewhere else?” he asked impulsively, surprising even himself. 

Hongbin paused, staring at him before he relaxed. “Where did you have in mind?” he asked. Wonshik didn’t think he was imagining the way Hongbin was leaning in. 

Wonshik didn’t know. He didn’t know anywhere around here, but he didn’t want to take Hongbin closer to his side of the city for fear someone might recognise him. “Somewhere quieter. Another bar.” 

Hongbin looked surprised at that. “Not your place?” 

“It’s too soon,” Wonshik said. He raised an eyebrow at Hongbin. “A gentleman never overplays his hand.” 

Hongbin smiled; Wonshik had been right, he really would start wars for that smile. “And are you a gentleman?” 

Wonshik grinned, all teeth. “Not at all.” 

———

Sanghyuk leaned his shoulders against the wall, taking the weight off for a second or two. It wasn’t necessary; he’d spent long days with Taekwoon training for just this, hours of standing perfectly still without showing any sign of the discomfort that inevitably began to set in. It wasn’t uncomfortable yet, but it didn’t matter even if it was. No one was around to see him anyway. 

The door to Hakyeon’s office was shut. Hakyeon had come up here after his dinner with Taekwoon and locked himself away. The soundproofing was too well done for Sanghyuk to hear what he was up to, but he could well imagine it because he’d seen it before. Hakyeon would be at his desk, working through legal contracts and business proposals, invoices and rent payments and tenant complaints. The long stretch of his desk was always full of paperwork like that. 

Sanghyuk straightened up, rolling his shoulders and neck. Taekwoon was busy with something, or else he would have been in the office with Hakyeon, and Sanghyuk would not be here. It was already past midnight, and Sanghyuk did not know how long he would be here, guarding the door, but the truth was that he liked doing this, being here. There was little chance of Hakyeon being attacked in his own office, in his own house, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that this was his job, standing here, keeping guard. And Sanghyuk had been waiting for so long to finally be allowed to do this that even if it was currently somewhat dull, he was grateful to be here at all.

His thoughts drifted to what he had been turning over and over in his mind for the past few hours; namely, the man Hakyeon had called Jaehwan. The man who had cut off Park’s fingers and then sat in his basement office without a hair out of place and got on with his paperwork like nothing had happened. He was slim and attractive and had looked at Sanghyuk like he had three heads when Sanghyuk asked him what he planned to do with the fingers; Sanghyuk was curious, that was all. He was new to this section of the family. He was still trying to learn what everyone did, how it all functioned. 

Hakyeon’s office door opened. Sanghyuk turned to it, hand going to his gun, but casually; there wasn’t an actual threat. Hakyeon stepped outside, smothering a yawn against the back of his hand. He blinked in surprise when he saw Sanghyuk. “I thought you would have gone to bed,” he said. 

“You never dismissed me,” Sanghyuk said. He did not add that he would have stayed even if Hakyeon had dismissed him; someone needed to keep watch. 

Hakyeon smiled at him, a soft, indulgent smile. It was a smile that rankled Sanghyuk a few years back, although now he knew Hakyeon better, he did not mind it so much. “Go to bed, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon said. “If I cannot be safe in my own house, where can I be safe?” 

Sanghyuk was silent for a few moments. The truth was that, unlikely as it was, there was no guarantee that Hakyeon was safe in his own house, and they both knew it. But they had to pretend, because otherwise nobody would get any peace. 

“I’ll walk you to your room,” was all Sanghyuk said eventually. 

“How sweet,” Hakyeon teased, but he let Sanghyuk do it all the same. He walked a step in front, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, the only outward concession to the late hour. Otherwise he was as prim and proper as ever. Looking so well-put together must be natural on Hakyeon; Sanghyuk was still trying to learn it. 

Hakyeon paused outside his bedroom door, fingers hesitating above the handle. “Tell me,” he said. “How are you finding it, so far, this job?” 

Sanghyuk thought for a moment. He did not often see Hakyeon hesitate, and so he knew that it required an answer that he had thought about, not something blase blurted out before first reflecting. But it was hard to put it into words, how this job was. He could not find a way of saying _it feels like slipping into a well worn glove_ that would not sound ridiculous expressed out loud. “It’s about what I anticipated,” he said. 

That didn’t seem to reassure Hakyeon. “And that’s good?” 

Sanghyuk laughed, just a little. “Yes,” he said. “Yeah, it’s really good.” 

Hakyeon rolled his eyes at him and finally opened his bedroom door. “Well,” he said lightly. “I look forward to working with you more in the future. Goodnight, Sanghyuk.” 

“Goodnight,” Sanghyuk said. He waited until the door had shut behind Hakyeon, hearing the lock click, before he turned and headed to his own bedroom, his footsteps light on the hardwood floor. 

———

The sunlight streaming in through the cracks of his blinds woke Wonshik up. He squinted at the window and then rolled over. Hongbin lay on his front, face mashed into the other pillow. The sheet dipped down low on his bare back, almost purposely so, just barely covering the swell of his ass. Wonshik had been hoping that Hongbin drooled in his sleep or something, just to ruin the image of perfection, but he didn’t. His hair did look like a multitude of baby birds had made their home in it, though. 

Hongbin continued to sleep, despite the light and Wonshik rolling around, the half of his face that Wonshik could see peaceful. Wonshik slid off the bed, carefully, to not wake him before he needed to. He searched as quietly as he could for his underwear and eventually found them still in his jeans, half under the bed where he’d kicked them. He pulled them on; it was warm enough that he didn’t need a t-shirt. He let himself out of the bedroom and made sure to leave the door open just a crack, both so Hongbin felt free to come out and so that the latch didn’t make a sound. 

He wandered into the kitchen, idly scratching at his stomach. His limbs felt lazy and languid, in ways that he hadn’t felt for a while. It hadn’t exactly been a dry period for him recently, but it had been a long time since he’d had sex like the night before. Hongbin may have been a posh little rich boy but he knew his way around the bedroom. 

Wonshik searched the kitchen cupboards for any food that might have been left from the last time he or Jaehwan had visited. He’d brought Hongbin back to the apartment he and Jaehwan rented together, close to the neutral city centre. They’d decided to rent it as a means escape from the main house, when they needed it. Not really in terms of dire circumstances, though it could be used for that too, if the need ever arose. It was more that— even after five years living in the main house, it still seemed like too much sometimes, with the strict hierarchies and rules. They’d been there when Wonshik lived in the secondary house too, he definitely wasn’t a stranger to rules, but it had all been much more lax then. A lot of things, he reflected, were different now.

This was a rule that hadn’t changed though. Even just the thought of bringing a one night stand back to the main house made Wonshik’s skin crawl. Hakyeon would probably skin him alive for it. 

Unfortunately their use of the apartment was patchy at best and all Wonshik could find was a carton of eggs that were just in date and a loaf of bread that someone (probably Jaehwan) had sensibly stashed in the small freezer for later use. There was a half-full carton of orange juice in the fridge that was out of date but smelled okay when Wonshik sniffed at it. Nothing else was edible and went into the trash. 

Hongbin hadn’t moved much on the bed when Wonshik slipped back into the room, but the sunlight was falling square across his head and his face was pressed fully into the pillow, so Wonshik could only see the mess of his hair. When Wonshik climbed back onto the bed, Hongbin said something into the pillow which possibly sounded like a muffled, “No thank you.” 

“I was going to make some breakfast,” Wonshik said. He lay a hand on Hongbin’s back. His skin was sun-warm and a little tacky from last night’s sweat. “You can have eggs if you want, or we’ve got bread for toast.” 

Hongbin moved his head just enough to squint one half-open eye at him. “No,” he said, and then turned back away from the sun.

“Mmm. Is that no to food or no to talking?” There was no reply. Wonshik stretched himself along Hongbin’s side, propped up on one elbow. He dropped his head to kiss Hongbin’s shoulder. Hongbin seemed to melt into the mattress, so Wonshik did it again. He was reminded irresistibly of the night before, kissing the back of Hongbin’s neck as he fucked him, one of his hands holding Hongbin’s hands stretched out above his head, the other pinning Hongbin’s hips right where he wanted him. But that thought just slid into another memory (of making out in the back of their cab over) and another (Hongbin riding him, the long line of his neck bared as he tilted his head back) and another (Hongbin’s mouth around his cock, sucking him with more finesse than someone who could barely pronounce cocaine should have been capable of). 

Hongbin rolled over onto his back. His cock was obviously half-hard underneath the sheet that was tangled up around his legs. “Hi,” he said, in a raspy voice. 

“Hi.” Wonshik shifted so that they were pressed skin to skin. Hongbin was warm, and Wonshik wanted to be closer. He tucked a hand around Hongbin’s waist and stroked his side, revelling in the feeling of it, and the way Hongbin shivered. “Did you want any breakfast?” 

“As sweet as that is,” Hongbin said, squirming on the bed into Wonshik’s touch, “I’m going to have to leave soon and I’d rather use that time in other ways.” 

“Do you _have_ to leave?” Wonshik kissed the corner of his mouth and felt Hongbin smile against him. “I did have some plans in mind.” 

“I have work to do,” Hongbin said. He touched Wonshik’s chest, trailing his fingers in lazy motions against the tail end of the dragon tattoo that covered the upper half of Wonshik’s left arm. His eyes were hooded, and the touch was so distracting that it took Wonshik a few moments before he could remember to respond. 

“It’s a Saturday,” he said. Like he could talk. Saturday was nominally a day off for him but that wouldn’t stop Hakyeon from calling him with some task or another to take care of. 

“There’s no rest for the wicked,” Hongbin said. 

“What do you—” But Hongbin cut him off by sliding his hands into Wonshik’s hair and tugging him down into insistent kisses. Wonshik climbed on top of him, hips tilted down into Hongbin’s, the hardness of his erection making it seem as though the sheet between them didn’t even exist. Hongbin let go of his hair with one hand to grab a handful of his ass and pull him that impossible bit closer. 

“Why are you talking,” he said breathlessly, “when you could be sucking my cock?” 

Point. “Yes, sir,” said Wonshik. 

———

When Wonshik finally arrived in Hakyeon’s office, it was well after midday, and he was smiling in a self-satisfied way that Hakyeon knew he didn’t want to know anything about. He hadn’t been in his rooms when Hakyeon sent for him, so Sanghyuk had called him to get him to report in. It was a Saturday, so Hakyeon couldn’t begrudge the extra time too much, but he still felt a little petulant about it. 

“Did you have a good night?” Hakyeon asked, just a tad sarcastically, as Wonshik sauntered to the couch in front of the desk and flopped down onto it. Taekwoon sat opposite him on the other couch, a tablet in his hands. He was scrolling through something and didn’t seem to be paying much attention, which didn’t mean he wasn’t listening to every single word. Which he was.

“Sure,” Wonshik said, almost lounging. “Didn’t Jaehwan tell you about it?” 

“I haven’t seen Jaehwan,” said Hakyeon. Then, as the thought struck him, “Dear god, please tell me you didn’t fuck Jaehwan.” 

Wonshik blanched so hard it was almost worth the mental images it had put in Hakyeon’s head. Hakyeon heard a soft noise from Taekwoon, which may have been a snort, but he didn’t look up from the tablet screen. “No!” said Wonshik. “Not Jaehwan! He was just at the bar with me, that’s all.” 

“I don’t want to know any more,” Hakyeon decided. He’d sleep better at night this way. He made a sharp motion with his hand to indicate the conversation was over. “I need you to go over to Prince Street, where the new acquisitions are?”

Wonshik nodded slowly. Prince Street was within the area he was in charge of, and Hakyeon had kept him involved in the process where he could, but Wonshik was a visual learner, and he hadn’t actually visited the place yet. “The new bars?”

“Yes. There are a couple of them that don’t seem to be settling like I would have hoped. They don’t seem to like the idea of paying their dues to me.” It was more than that, but Wonshik would know to read between the lines; nobody had refused to pay up yet, but it could come to that. Hakyeon didn’t much fancy having to evict all the bar owners and replace them. It would only mean stretches of time where the bars would be closed and he’d be making no money off them. “I need you to go check up on them, work your magic. They’re more like your area of expertise.” 

Wonshik smiled. “So the owners are a little rough around the edges?” 

Hakyeon smiled back. “More than a little.”

Wonshik nodded. He reached out and picked up the car keys left on the coffee table without Hakyeon needing to prompt him. Wonshik had his own car, kept in the underground garage, but Hakyeon preferred his employees use the family cars when they were on official business. Hakyeon had picked out one of the dark sedans for him to use in this case, nice enough to impress but not flashy enough to stand out too badly in that area of town. 

Wonshik stood, tossing the car keys up in the air and catching them with a jangle. “I’ll check in on the girls by the east side when I’m down there,” he said. “Make sure things went smoothly last night. And Jung’s rent is due today, you want me to bring it to you or just take it straight to the bank?” 

Hakyeon waved a hand at him. “Just take it to the bank. Get a receipt, to file with your paperwork.” 

“Fucking paperwork,” Wonshik grumbled as he headed out of the door. Hakyeon understood the sentiment, but couldn’t agree. He had respect for the concept of a paper trail, everything down on a solid surface, as evidence. The old way was of a handshake and a promise. A quaint idea, but Hakyeon didn’t put too much stock in promises being kept. Too much reliance on the old way had been what helped Hakyeon to his current position in the first place. He wasn’t going to let anyone else take advantage of that. 

Wonshik shut the door quietly, ingrained after years of practise. Hakyeon watched him go, rolling his eyes internally at the spring in Wonshik’s step. Still, he was glad Wonshik was happy. When he’d first hired Wonshik years earlier, he’d been like these bar owners, prickly and resentful in many ways. Seeing him smile the way he did now made a lot of things worth it, in Hakyeon’s estimation. 

As soon as Hakyeon was sure Wonshik wouldn’t hear him, he glanced at Taekwoon, and gave in to the niggling feeling he’d had since halfway through his conversation with Wonshik. “Whatever you need to say,” he said, “you should say.” 

Taekwoon sighed. He put the tablet down on the coffee table and raised his eyes to meet Hakyeon’s. His face was impassive, which didn’t mean anything. “Those new businesses are too close to Lee territory,” he said. “I told you that when you were buying them. They’re never going to like being owned by a Cha.” 

“Which is why I’m sending Wonshik to deal with them,” Hakyeon said, a touch irritated. “He’s hardly what you think of when you think of the Cha family.” 

“This has nothing to do with Wonshik’s skills and abilities.” Taekwoon shrugged with one shoulder, a casual movement even when he was frowning, looking at Hakyeon with that expression that said _I am puzzled why you continue to ignore my excellent advice_. Hakyeon didn’t see that look very often and he hated it. “Even if they love Wonshik, which they no doubt will, it doesn’t matter. You’re never going to hold them.” 

“Have a little faith in me,” Hakyeon said, trying to joke. 

“Hakyeon,” said Taekwoon softly. Sometimes he had a way of looking at Hakyeon that, even when Hakyeon was looking in a different direction, Hakyeon could feel the pull of his eyes. In moments like this, Hakyeon meeting Taekwoon’s gaze directly, the effect was almost debilitating. “I always have faith in you.” 

Hakyeon felt his stomach clench, his throat closing up. Only a lifetime of training stopped his reaction showing on his face. If he was anybody else, he would have flushed, his feelings would have been written for the world to see. “You might show it more,” he said lightly. 

“And you might show it back,” Taekwoon said. “I know you, Hakyeon, so I know that I can’t convince you otherwise. I know you’re not someone to put all your eggs in one basket. But if you’re planning something, then I’d like to know about it.”

“I’m not planning anything,” Hakyeon said. He said it too quickly, he realised immediately. He sounded nothing but defensive. 

Taekwoon’s eyes flickered. He was better, most of the time, at keeping his emotions off his face, which meant that the brief flash of hurt had been shown on purpose. He knew Hakyeon was lying. He always did. That was what made him so important to Hakyeon, even if Hakyeon had been able to feel Taekwoon slipping through his fingers for years now, ever since Nayoung. 

“It’s too early,” Hakyeon said. It wasn’t a lie, necessarily. It was too early to say whether things would work out, but a plan being early in development had never stopped him from telling Taekwoon before. But it was different now, it had been different for a while. He had Sanghyuk to look after him, and he needed to learn to not rely on Taekwoon so much. “I don’t have all the right pieces yet. When I do, I’ll tell you.” 

“Do you promise?” Taekwoon’s eyes were dark, impenetrable. 

Hakyeon swallowed. Yes, he could promise to tell, but he hoped that would only happen when it didn’t matter anymore. “Taekwoon, I give you my word.” 

There was a pause, then Taekwoon snorted. “I should get you to write that down,” he said. “That’s the only way I’d get a guarantee.” But he was smiling, just a little. Just enough. 

“You know me too well,” Hakyeon said. It was a joke, but it wasn’t a joke at the same time, and it made Hakyeon’s heart ache. Nobody knew him as well as Taekwoon did, and once Taekwoon was gone, nobody would ever know him as well again. But it might be easier, then, to deal with the pounding need in the core of himself. 

“Tell me about it,” Taekwoon muttered. He picked up the tablet. Hakyeon could just make out a video, some sort of surveillance footage. 

He nodded towards it. “Is that something I should be worried about?” 

“Just some vandals,” Taekwoon said. He flicked his fingers at the screen and gave the illusion of shrugging without moving his body. “Down on the east side. They spray painted one of our buildings. The police are already taking care of them. I’ve got a couple of other things to take care of. Do you need me for anything else, or can I go?” 

Hakyeon waved him away in dismissal. Taekwoon stood and stretched. Hakyeon watched the play of muscles under his shirt for just a second, just enough to satisfy him. He was used to self-refusal at this point, but he needed just a little now and then to keep him going. Taekwoon’s shoulders disappeared under his suit jacket. Hakyeon didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone wear a suit so well. 

“Dinner tonight?” he called, almost blurting it out as Taekwoon headed towards the door. “I’ll get the chef to make chicken for us.” 

“Mmm.” Taekwoon lifted his gaze from the tablet for a moment. He gave Hakyeon a look that barely showed on his face but Hakyeon was well practised in interpreting Taekwoon. It was all in the eyes. It was as close to a grin as Taekwoon ever got. “I’m looking forward to it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is up earlier than i expected, not because i finished chapter 15 yet, but because i'm sick and feeling sorry for myself so wanted to do something nice LOL 
> 
> i forgot to mention that this fic was entirely inspired by me watching 2 series of peaky blinders and then never another episode even though i loved it. this isn't unusual for me. there's not a lot of peaky blinders in the fic but i did say THOMAS FUCKING SHELBY a few times writing it, so there's that.

When they’d first moved into the house five years ago, Jaehwan had taken a tiny room in the basement as his office. He could have had any number of rooms in this giant, sprawling mansion; most people working for Hakyeon didn’t need offices, so there were plenty of rooms going free. But he’d convinced Hakyeon to let him have this one, a glorified storage cupboard, and he’d squashed in a desk and a swivel chair and a bookcase. 

He’d had his degree framed and put up on the wall behind his desk chair: Lee Jaehwan, B.S. in Biology and Mathematics. The frame was flashy, to distract from the way the walls were discoloured from the shelves he’d ripped off. It was always bitterly cold in the winter and wonderfully cool in the summer, the room lacking an air vent or window, simply perpetually chilly from the fact of it being underground. But it was quiet down in this part of the basement, on the other side of the house from the training rooms and pool. Nobody came down here unless they were coming to see him. Sometimes Jaehwan needed quiet. 

When he put his overlong legs up on his desk, the toes of his shoes brushed against the opposite wall, close and cramped. He sat there with his legs propped up, staring at the grim ceiling while he tried to figure out how in the hell Wonshik had managed to convince that hot as fuck guy to go home with him the night before, when there was a knock on the office door. 

“Yeah?” Jaehwan called, already tired from potential social interaction. There was a spot of mildew on the ceiling. He would have to get cleaning supplies from somewhere and scrub it off. He would have made one of the newest lackeys, fresh out of high school, to come and clean it, but even the thought of allowing any of them into the room made his throat tighten. 

The door opened slowly and Sanghyuk stuck his head around it, looking shy. Jaehwan straightened, bringing his feet back to the ground, trying hard to look like he wasn’t scrambling. He’d been expecting Taekwoon. “Hey,” he said. “Does Hakyeon need me?” 

“Hakyeon went out,” said Sanghyuk. He’d stepped into the doorway but hadn’t come in any further, the same as yesterday. “He didn’t need me, just a driver. He had a meeting with a lobbyist on capitol hill. Something about gun registration laws.” 

Jaehwan had gone to one of those meetings before, back when he was a rookie in the family and often took Hakyeon places, playing the chauffeur. “You have dodged quite a bullet, being left behind,” he said. 

“Yeah, Hakyeon didn’t seem too happy about the whole thing,” said Sanghyuk. “So I just— I thought I’d come down and—”

Jaehwan battered down the hope trying to rise up in him; Sanghyuk’s eyes were flickering around the office like he was casing the joint out. “What? There’s nothing here other than me.” 

Sanghyuk’s eyes came back to Jaehwan’s face. After a moment he said, “You were joking about using the fingers in a satanic ritual, weren’t you?” He sounded hopelessly resigned. 

Jaehwan barked out a laugh. He hadn’t expected that, and was tickled by the thought that Sanghyuk had spent the night wondering about the fingers. “That’s what you came all this way to ask? Why are you so obsessed with those fingers?” 

“I just want to know what you guys do with them.” Sanghyuk took a step further into the room, apparently without noticing it. “Nobody cuts people’s fingers off at the other house. What do you even do with random fingers? Did you burn them or something? You can’t just throw them out, someone might find them.” 

“I watched a television show once,” Jaehwan said. He wondered what Sanghyuk meant by _the other house_. The secondary house, perhaps. Jaehwan hadn’t been aware of anyone living there, but then he’d never exactly looked into it. The previous main line of the family had been banished to the countryside. The ones who were still living, anyway. “This guy put someone’s arms into a garbage disposal unit. Just ground them right up.” 

Sanghyuk didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t that he looked interested, but he certainly didn’t look _un_ interested. “Is there a mass grave in the courtyard?” he asked. “Just a mass grave full of fingers?” 

Jaehwan laughed at the thought. Sanghyuk watched him, a small smile playing on his mouth, one which looked pleased but also bemused. “I hope that’s what we do,” Jaehwan said. 

Sanghyuk frowned. “You don’t know?” 

“You think I’m going to wander around with someone’s fingers?” Jaehwan raised an eyebrow at Sanghyuk. “I don’t have a cooler I keep them in. I just cut them off, someone else cleans up after me.” And thank god, too, because he knew how difficult it was to get blood out of the carpet in some of the rooms in this house. 

Sanghyuk leaned his shoulders back against the doorframe. It was a good look on him, it made his body even longer with just that subtle slant to it. But there was something casual about the movement, like Sanghyuk didn’t _know_ how good it looked. He tucked both hands into the pockets of his slacks, bypassing the holster and gun at his hips with practised ease. “So who cleans up? Maybe I could go ask them.” 

Jaehwan smiled lazily. He didn’t know what to make of this kid. “You really are obsessed, aren’t you?” 

“No,” said Sanghyuk. “I was just joking, that time. Do you cut many fingers off?” Sanghyuk made the question sound like small talk, no judgement involved, merely curiosity. As if Jaehwan was a mere accountant and Sanghyuk wanted to know if it got busy around tax season. 

“Not many,” Jaehwan said, mildly perplexed but not willing to show it. He didn’t meet many people that could talk casually about this part of his job. Most found it distasteful. He knew even Wonshik was unnerved sometimes; not just that Jaehwan did it, but that he was good at it. There were of course the odd ones out of any group, who wanted to hear all the gory details Jaehwan could provide. Funnily, Jaehwan hated them even more than those who regarded his work as filth. He had enough on his plate without catering to those with a fetish. “It’s not all a life of glamour and fun.”

It was a joke, probably in poor taste, Jaehwan testing the waters. He was rewarded with Sanghyuk smiling. It was a nice smile, really. Wonshik had said that the kid was too young for Hakyeon but that didn’t mean he was too young for Jaehwan, theoretically. Jaehwan didn’t even know anything about Sanghyuk other than he was Hakyeon’s latest project and apparently liked morbid things. There were worse starts to relationships. 

“Hey,” said a soft voice from behind Sanghyuk. 

Sanghyuk stepped to the side and turned to see who was behind him. Taekwoon loomed in the doorway, tablet in his hand. For the first time, Jaehwan realised that Sanghyuk was actually a little taller than Taekwoon, although not as broad across the shoulders. This delighted Jaehwan.

“Taekwoon,” Jaehwan said, getting to his feet. “My old, old friend.” 

Taekwoon gave him a flat glare. He’d been amused at the joke once in his life, years ago, which meant that Jaehwan kept making it at any given opportunity, just to see if it would amuse him any other time. So far it hadn’t. After a pause to let the glare make the most impact, Taekwoon said, “I’ve got a thing I need you to do.” 

“A thing,” Jaehwan repeated. Taekwoon was rarely so vague with his instructions; that was Hakyeon’s schtick. Hakyeon told you to jump and you did it without even bothering to ask how high. Taekwoon was the one who then delivered detailed instructions listing where and when the jump was to take place, how high you were expected to jump, and what you were supposed to do afterwards as clean up.

“A thing,” Taekwoon said. He slid his eyes across to Sanghyuk. “Hakyeon called,” he said. His voice was even softer than normal, speaking to Sanghyuk. That was interesting. “He’s due back in half an hour. He’s got another appointment and he wants you with him.” 

“What kind of appointment?” Sanghyuk asked. For someone new to the family, he sounded very cheerful talking to Taekwoon, who regularly scared off new recruits, never to be seen again. “Big guns or little guns.” 

Taekwoon actually cracked a smile. Jaehwan _stared_. He had seen Taekwoon smile before, but never when Hakyeon wasn’t also in the room. It was a nice smile, too, and Jaehwan liked seeing it, but he was so shocked he couldn’t even appreciate it. 

“Little guns,” Taekwoon said. Jaehwan made a soft noise, perhaps too high pitched for anyone else to hear. It probably sounded like steam escaping a kettle. Taekwoon had _gone along with the joke_. 

Sanghyuk gave a joking salute and turned on his heel and headed for the stairs back to the main floor. Jaehwan watched him go, almost openly admiring him. Once he had disappeared from sight, Taekwoon stepped into the office and shut the door behind him. He put the tablet on Jaehwan’s desk; down here, there was no signal from the house WiFi, and barely any on cell phones. Bugs would be useless down here. It was part of why Jaehwan had chosen it. 

Taekwoon caught him staring. “What?”

“Sanghyuk,” Jaehwan said. “What?” 

Taekwoon scowled at him, which felt like easier footing. “I’m not here about Sanghyuk,” he said, which didn’t appease Jaehwan’s curiosity. There was something here. One did not become Hakyeon’s trainee bodyguard without first impressing Taekwoon, and Jaehwan wondered how the fuck Sanghyuk had managed that. The last time Taekwoon had been impressed by someone was when Wonshik had punched him in the face. 

“Right,” Jaehwan said. He sat back down and tapped the blank screen of the tablet with a finger. Nothing happened. “What’s this thing you want me to do?” 

“Basic surveillance,” Taekwoon said. He also touched his fingers to the tablet, almost hesitating. “Your favourite thing.” 

Jaehwan groaned. He fucking hated surveillance. He was good at it, but only because his natural state was to keep track of every movement, every conversation happening around him. It was hard enough dealing with that just by himself; trying to keep track of that _and_ another person was exhausting. “Why me?” 

“I need someone I can trust,” Taekwoon said. His eyes, as he looked at Jaehwan, were level and heavy. It made Jaehwan feel pinned in. He’d grown used to that look over the years — Taekwoon always looked like that — but that didn’t mean Jaehwan liked it. 

“I’m honoured,” Jaehwan said, to dispel some of the tension. 

“You weren’t my first choice,” Taekwoon said, tone so flat it was hard to realise he was teasing immediately, “but Wonshik is busy.” 

“Ouch.” Jaehwan mimed clutching at his chest before he spread his hands out, held over the table in request. “Well. What’s the deal. Do you have a file?” 

“No.” Taekwoon’s voice had gone back to being his usual default serious, which was disappointing. “Jaehwan, I’m asking you because I need someone who I can not only trust myself, but someone who Hakyeon can trust.”

Jaehwan didn’t bother telling him that he was looking at such a person. They both knew it was true. Hakyeon inspired loyalty, certainly, and you didn’t get to this level of an organisation without some kind of dedication to your leader, but it was more than that, with people like Taekwoon and Jaehwan and Wonshik. It was a life or death kind of thing. 

“You don’t have a file?” he asked, after a meaningful pause. 

“No.” Taekwoon swiped open the tablet and opened up a document. He didn’t let Jaehwan read it, just let him glance at the screen filled with text and waited until Jaehwan looked back up at him. “I’m going to let you read this, but after that, everything is verbal, everything goes through this room. I’m not an idiot, Jaehwan. I know you picked this room so that no one could spy on you. If you want to jack off in peace down here, so be it, but this thing I’m asking you to look into? It never gets brought up outside of here.” 

“You have such a stick up your ass,” Jaehwan said. “Fine, you got it. Now are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“It’s about the mayor,” Taekwoon said. Jaehwan blinked at him, and then blinked at him harder when Taekwoon added, “And the Lee family.” 

——

It wasn’t that Hakyeon didn’t trust Sanghyuk’s driving ability, but all the same, he was somewhat pleasantly surprised when they made it to the appointment in one piece. It probably showed on his face because Sanghyuk rolled his eyes as they got out of the car and stepped into the parking lot in front of a series of restaurants. 

“Taekwoon taught me to drive,” Sanghyuk said, holding Hakyeon’s door open for him. He looked tall and strong, backlit by the mid-afternoon sunshine. Hakyeon wondered if Sanghyuk would move with the same easy confidence in his body if he hadn’t gone through his training. “And Taekwoon will be the one to straight up murder me if anything happened to you or one of the cars.” 

Hakyeon smiled as he straightened up and Sanghyuk closed the car door behind him. “Taekwoon doesn’t care about the cars.” 

Sanghyuk didn’t look like he believed that. “He acted like I was one second away from totalling it when he was teaching me to drive during training.” 

“That’s because he cares about _you_ ,” Hakyeon said, “and he doesn’t want you taking any dangerous risks when you’re driving.” He wasn’t sure if his smile was directed at Sanghyuk still, or at Taekwoon for all the times he had railed about Sanghyuk trying something risky in a practise fight or during a driving lesson. 

“He’s an idiot,” Sanghyuk said. He sounded about as fond of Taekwoon as anyone who wasn’t Hakyeon could be.

Hakyeon turned his attention to the building his appointment was at. It looked like any other building on the street. The first floor was taken up by the restaurant itself, a basic place that advertised special prices on BBQ. The floor above seemed to be a private language school, and the floors above that private apartments, presumably of the people who owned the businesses, but not necessarily. The building was within Cha territory, but neither the land nor the building itself belonged to Cha Family Holdings, which meant that whoever did own the building could rent their space out to anyone they liked, operate whatever business they wanted. Hakyeon didn’t like it. It was too much like a loose end. 

“So what’s the plan?” Sanghyuk asked quietly. His hands were steady at his side, but his thumb just brushed against his hip, where his gun hung. His eyes had no doubt taken in the main entrance, with the glass doors and signs outside that could cause a troubled escape. He was going into this building blind, which made it an interesting challenge for him. Not that Hakyeon was expecting any trouble. Not that that meant there wouldn’t be any. 

Hakyeon smoothed down his suit jacket, made sure the lines were smooth and sharp. “Keep close. It’s just a business meeting, you know that drill.” 

Sanghyuk nodded. He followed Hakyeon into the building, a few steps behind, not far enough to be outside of grabbing distance but not close enough to be tripping up Hakyeon’s back. The restaurant was nearly empty when they walked in. There were three teenage girls sitting at one table eating piles of meat that looked too big for their slim bodies. A couple of young guys, probably college students, hung around the counter in the apron uniforms. They glanced at each other before one of them said, “Uh, yeah, table for two?” 

“No,” said Hakyeon. “I’m here to see Mr. Jang. He’ll be expecting me.” 

There was another pause before the guy who hadn’t spoken disappeared into the back to find his boss. The other young guy tried to make conversation, which Sanghyuk answered cheerfully. Sure, he’d seen the game last night, yeah it sucked that Kim got struck out in the third innings, oh if the employee knew where to get tickets for the live games then he’d have to hook Sanghyuk up. Hakyeon didn’t think Sanghyuk had ever watched a single game of baseball in his life.

Jang kept them waiting for a couple of minutes before they were shown through to his office in the back. It was a dingy little room that nevertheless was a damn sight better than the hovel that Jaehwan called his office. Hakyeon sat on one of the rickety wooden chairs on the other side of Jang’s desk. Sanghyuk took up position at the door, his back against the wall, posture loose and easy.

“Mr Jang,” said Hakyeon pleasantly. “What is it that I can do for you?” 

Jang was a rough looking man with dark hair and beard, turned-in shoulders. He looked like was probably tall, although it was hard to tell when he was sitting behind his desk. There was a fleshy look to his face which suggested middle age was not being kind to him. There was a sauce stain on his shirt, orange-pink. “You do protection, right?” he said bluntly. 

“I do,” said Hakyeon, trying to not look at the sauce stain. “For the right price.” 

Jang did not look impressed by that. “What’s that price?” 

“Well,” said Hakyeon, so pleasant it was almost sarcastic, “it depends on what you need protection from.” 

Jang’s eyes flickered towards Sanghyuk, then at the ceiling. Hakyeon put the dots together before Jang could speak. “If you’re worried about bugs, Mr Jang, then I’m afraid you’re already in trouble by virtue of speaking to me.” 

Jang squinted at him. “You’re not what I was expecting,” he said. 

“I get that a lot,” Hakyeon said. He wondered what Jang _had_ been expecting, if his idea of the Cha Family Holdings CEO was some tattooed street thug, if he’d been expecting Wonshik to come in and start messing him up. Even by the standards of other family heads, Hakyeon was not what most people expected. He was too young, for one thing; family heads under thirty were next to unheard of. 

Jang looked around twitchily for another few moments and then slumped. “There’s this guy,” he said. “Real mean looking guy, he’s been hanging around the shop recently. I don’t judge my regulars, truth be told I’m always just glad that they’re coming back. But this guy, he’s weird. A few days ago he asked me if I knew anyone who would be willing to help on a job he’s got going. What kind of job, I said. An importing job, he said. He needs somewhere to stash some stuff he’s got coming in.” 

“Ah,” said Hakyeon. “And by anyone, he, of course, meant you.” 

Jang ran a hand through his hair, which was thinning on top. Hakyeon could see the slight shake in his hand. Jang was spooked, properly, and he didn’t seem like the type who was smart enough to be easily spooked. “I told him I’d think about it. But yesterday he comes in and he’s freaking out, he says he needs an answer from me. I told him no, but he told me I didn’t have a choice in the matter. He showed me this tattoo he’s got on the inside of his wrist and told me that if I didn’t help him out, him and some of his buddies would come and fix me up.” 

“This tattoo,” Hakyeon said. He already thought he would know the answer to his question. “Did you recognise it?”

“I mean— it was just the number two in black ink, but he stuck it in my face like I was supposed to recognise it,” Jang said, brow furrowing in confusion. “Should I have?”

Hakyeon flicked the fingers of his right hand in a dismissive gesture, humming thoughtfully as he looked at the yellowing paint on the wall behind Jang’s shoulder. No, Jang shouldn’t have recognized the tattoo. Or rather, Hakyeon would have been surprised if he did. On the surface, cropping up spottily through the city in recent months, they could pass as a new, petty street gang.

The man who threatened Jang must have known this restaurant did not belong to Hakyeon, if he and his cohorts were trying to use it. There were other bigger places nearby they could exploit, but Hakyeon either owned the businesses or the buildings themselves; it was not just that they happened to be within his territory, within the lines drawn and understood only by the families themselves. 

He had to act carefully to avoid drawing suspicion to himself. Since he was a child, he had always allowed people to overlook him, to underestimate what he could do. It made people blind in spots that often proved to be very advantageous. For Hakyeon. Though not for them.

Hakyeon sat back in his chair and folded his arms, pursing his lips as if thoughtful. “It’s likely simple gang stuff, Mr Jang, nothing more. There are hundreds of small gangs in this city,” he said blandly. “As per our policy, if you would like to recruit— assistance from my family, it will cost you twenty-five hundred a week for such protection.”

Jang looked vaguely stunned. “I can’t afford that,” he said. 

“Oh, well,” said Hakyeon, idly examining the jut of his kneecaps through his suit pants. 

He noted the moment that Jang’s hope turned into despair; after this it would turn to anger. “They’re not letting me say no, Mr. Cha. I have a family, I can’t— I don’t know what I’m supposed to _do_.” 

Hakyeon shrugged, one shouldered, too graceful to be casual. “Let them stash whatever it is at your restaurant. It’s the easiest option, as far as I can see, and causes the least inconvenience to me,” he said, smiling thinly. “Do inform me what kind of product they’re bringing in, though. I like to keep on top of these things.”

Jang stared at him. “That’s it?” 

“I cannot waste resources chasing down every neighborhood gang that pops up. I don’t pretend to like them, nor enjoy their meddling, but I have far more important matters to deal with,” Hakyeon said simply. He got to his feet, smoothing his suit jacket back down. He was going to smell like fried chicken for the rest of the day. “And quite frankly, this building doesn’t even belong to my family, nor does this business, so whatever happens in it is not overly a concern of mine, if you’re not going to pay for it to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Jang, I’ve other appointments to attend to.”

Jang stood up too. His face was red and blotchy. It was obvious from the way he was posturing that he was used to intimidating his way out of situations. “Now see here, you can’t just—” 

“I can’t what?” Hakyeon asked, and behind him Sanghyuk straightened up from the wall. The click of his safety being released seemed very loud. Jang glanced at him and then sat back down with a thump. “Don’t worry,” said Hakyeon. He turned his back on him and sauntered to the door. “You have my number if there’s any real trouble.” 

As he strode out of the restaurant and through the parking lot, he wondered what would happen next. Without his support, he knew Jang would cave and allow the men to store their goods here. Hakyeon genuinely didn’t know what they were; it could be whiskey, like with Park, or drugs of some sort. Either way, it would be coming into his territory, which was potentially risky. But everything was risky. Hakyeon’s entire life was planning around the risks, for potential gain. And this was no different. 

Sanghyuk was silent until they were settled in the car. He glanced at Hakyeon in the rear view mirror, forehead creased in a slight frown. “What was the tattoo?” he asked. 

“It’s like I said,” Hakyeon said vaguely, still a bit lost in thought over his own next moves. “Just a gang thing.” 

Sanghyuk looked a little hurt. He had never quite picked up the skill of keeping every emotion off his face, no matter all the lessons Taekwoon had given him. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said. “I don’t talk, I can keep secrets.” 

Hakyeon sighed. He wasn’t stupid, Sanghyuk. Hakyeon would never have chosen him if he’d been stupid. A little dumb sometimes, in the way all teenage boys were, but astute where he needed to be. He wasn’t quite Taekwoon, but Hakyeon could make it work all the same. 

“Fine,” said Hakyeon, a little sharply. “I won’t lie to you; you don’t need to know.” _Not before I do_. Hakyeon had guesses. But that’s all they were. Educated guesses, for true— he’d been keeping close tabs on this new rising development to be sure, though this was the first time he had so clearly run up against them. It did make sense, for them to begin planting seeds here. It didn’t seem like a coincidence, based on their patterns in the past, the way they cropped up so regularly in places where the mayor was trying to make inroads. Hakyeon knew the mayor would love to gain power in this part of the city, wrestling it back from the families who held all the money. “I do not doubt your ability to keep secrets, Sanghyuk, but you need to trust me that I know when things need to be shared, and with whom. Do not overstep.”

Sanghyuk looked at him for another moment, scowling a little, and then nodded slowly. Without another word, he started the car and pulled smoothly away from the curb. After some silence, when they were stopped at the next red light, he said in a small voice, “You want to stop for coffee?” 

Hakyeon didn’t need to take olive branches — he was the family head, his word was sacrosanct — but he took it all the same. “Sure.” 

——

Taekwoon, by virtue of the fact that he spent most of his time in Hakyeon’s office, rarely could be found in his own, so it was always a surprise when someone bothered to look for him there. He much preferred to be standing behind Hakyeon, glowering at business owners or low level thugs from over Hakyeon’s narrow shoulder, or helping him with paperwork, or just sitting in silence while they both got on with their own work. There was a lot of work to do, from being Hakyeon’s second in command, and even more came in from being a self-assigned surveillance specialist. Hakyeon couldn’t have eyes everywhere in the city but Taekwoon could damn well try for him. 

The knock on Taekwoon’s closed office door startled him so badly that it took several more seconds than usual to close all the documents on his laptop.

“What,” he called, half-growling it out, once all that was on the screen in front of him was his desktop wallpaper.

Sanghyuk opened the door. He had obviously been dismissed for the evening, his hair messed where he’d run his hands through it and the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone. His jacket was nowhere to be seen, but his gun was still hanging at his side. Taekwoon glanced at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen and was surprised to see it was after ten at night. He’d forgotten to eat again. 

“Hey,” said Sanghyuk quietly. It was dim in Taekwoon’s office and the soft glow of his desk light made Sanghyuk look almost as young as he’d been when Taekwoon had first met him, years earlier. “Can I talk to you?” 

Taekwoon resisted the urge to run his hands through his own hair. He was never dismissed for the night. “Mm,” he said, nodding Sanghyuk into the room. “What’s up?” 

Sanghyuk closed the office door carefully behind him. The room wasn’t quite soundproofed but sound was muffled enough that recording devices outside the room couldn’t pick anything up. Taekwoon checked regularly for any bugs left in his office. Jaehwan called him a paranoid bastard, which was a prime example of the pot calling the kettle black. 

Sanghyuk perched on one of the hard chairs Taekwoon had set up on the other side of his desk. Hakyeon’s office was all sumption, expensive leather sofas for his clients to sit on, dark wood furnishings and bookshelves lining the walls; the bulk of the files and paperwork were kept in a different room so as to not damage the aesthetic of it. Taekwoon’s office wasn’t like that. Nothing in this room was set up for comfort. He didn’t want people to be comfortable in this room.

“It’s about Hakyeon,” Sanghyuk said. He did look uncomfortable, but Taekwoon didn’t think it had anything to do with the chair. Sanghyuk had learned to not think about physical discomfort. “Something weird happened at the meeting today.” 

“He’s okay?” Taekwoon asked. He was good at keeping his voice calm by this point, but that didn’t mean the nerves didn’t spike inside him. He understood the need for Sanghyuk, and wanted him to get on the job training as much as Hakyeon did, but that didn’t mean he liked it when Hakyeon went places without him. 

“He’s fine,” Sanghyuk said quickly. “The meeting was the usual, I’d say, nothing really happened, but, well—” 

Sanghyuk told Taekwoon about the meeting, all the particulars given in perfunctory detail, but everything that had been said remembered exactly. That had always been one of Sanghyuk’s strengths, his ability to remember whatever was said to or around him. Once upon a time he’d been marked out to be one of their spies until Hakyeon had shifted gears. It was a skill that had always impressed Taekwoon, because it never affected his ability to focus on other things. He had good instincts, but he was also good at listening to the world around him and anticipating threats in advance. Taekwoon was better at blocking all other distractions out and going with his gut feeling. Years of high alert had told him when danger was coming. 

“Hakyeon said it was just a gang thing but I don’t know,” Sanghyuk finished. “I could tell he was lying, and when I said that I could tell, he switched to simply saying I don’t need to know.” He gave a short, rolling shrug, and Taekwoon’s eyebrow quirked at the idea of Sanghyuk getting mouthy to Hakyeon’s face. Especially over information. “I don’t— I know he’s allowed to keep things from me but I can’t look after him if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be protecting him from.” 

“The tattoo,” Taekwoon said. He pulled up his sleeve and tapped the first two fingers of his left hand against the underside of his right wrist. “Was it here, a two?” 

“Yeah,” said Sanghyuk. He was looking at Taekwoon with just a hint of anxiety now. “Do you know what it means?” 

“It’s a gang thing,” Taekwoon said, deadpan, daring Sanghyuk to mouth off to him. 

Sanghyuk scowled. If there was one thing Taekwoon thought he’d never get the hang of, it was keeping his emotions from his face. Sanghyuk was, especially compared to Taekwoon, an open book. “Taekwoon, I’m not— I’m trying to take this job seriously. I do take it seriously. I’m not hankering for information just because I’m after gossip.” 

“I know,” Taekwoon said. For a moment, he felt regret that he couldn’t tell Sanghyuk exactly what was going on. But the feeling passed. It was a good teaching moment, in any case. “But Sanghyuk, you don’t need to know about every threat to Hakyeon to protect him. You should treat everything like a threat. You can’t let your guard down around the cashier at the convenience store anymore than you could if you went with Hakyeon to visit the head of another family. Something could go wrong at any point, anywhere.”

Sanghyuk gave him a look that was begging for understanding. “It’s hard.” 

“I know,” Taekwoon said again, his voice — not hard, but not overly sympathetic either. He would not, could not, let Hakyeon hire a bodyguard that did not grasp how important his role was, and so he needed Sanghyuk to understand this reality. “Believe me, I know. But it’s not just about jumping in front of the speeding bullet for Hakyeon. That’s the kind of thing that Jaehwan, or Wonshik, would do. Your job is to make sure the guy with the gun never even gets a chance to shoot.” 

Sanghyuk mulled that over. The thought almost looked like it calmed him down. Sanghyuk worked best with parameters, even if those parameters were _trust nobody_. “Okay,” he said. “You really think I don’t have to worry about it?” 

“If Hakyeon doesn’t think you need to know, you don’t need to know,” Taekwoon said. “But no, you don’t need to worry about it.” 

Sanghyuk twisted his mouth for a moment but nodded in the end. “Thanks, Taekwoon.” He turned towards the door and then turned back. “It’s late, you want me to bring you something from the kitchens?” 

Taekwoon smiled and let Sanghyuk see it. “No thanks, I value my stomach.” 

“I was going to get the chef to make it,” Sanghyuk said, smiling back. 

“He’ll have gone home for the night. I’ll figure it out.” He would have to call for take out or something. He didn’t like to touch the kitchen too much because the family chef complained about things being out of place. “Thanks for asking, Sanghyuk.” 

“Any time,” Sanghyuk said cheerfully, and clattered out of the room. 

Once the door had shut behind him, Taekwoon let his shoulders slump just enough that the tension was no longer pulling at them. He looked at his screen but the glare, which had barely registered before, made his eyes sting. He could feel the beginning rumblings of stomach cramps; the last time he’d eaten was breakfast that morning. He needed to stop for the night, but he couldn’t help but think mournfully of all the work he still needed to do. 

And now this, on top of everything else. He was glad Sanghyuk had told him, even though he didn’t have any clue what he was supposed to do with the information. Hakyeon hadn’t been lying, exactly, when he’d said the men were a gang. They were all part of some— thing. A group of thugs that contracted themselves out to whoever could afford it.

But there was no doubt in Taekwoon’s mind that they were connected to the Lee family, their secondary line of muscle and money-making schemes. He just couldn’t figure out where the connection was, or why they had become a thing only recently. Very recently. Taekwoon had only been made aware of the tattoos when one of the tatted men were killed in a bar fight in one of the Cha family bars and Taekwoon had gone there, overseeing the clean up. 

Taekwoon didn’t know how much Hakyeon had been told on the subject, how much he’d fettered out through other channels. And that was just the thing, wasn’t it. He no longer knew what Hakyeon knew and didn’t. Which was another recent problem. For so many years, there was nothing that Hakyeon knew that Taekwoon didn’t. It had been Taekwoon that Hakyeon confided his plans in for taking over the family, the coup, and everything since, every business deal, every acquisition and every chess move. And in turn Taekwoon had never hidden anything from Hakyeon, had been as transparent as Hakyeon has always been with him— 

Well, almost. There was certainly one thing he’d never told Hakyeon, and had no plans of ever doing so. 

But things were different now, and it made Taekwoon’s life harder, that Hakyeon no longer kept him in all of his confidence. Taekwoon supposed he knew enough to do his job, and found out the things he needed to fill in most of the gaps. So he could guess that Hakyeon knew this wasn’t just a gang thing, wouldn’t insult his intelligence by assuming he didn’t when everything in him screamed that Hakyeon _always_ knew everything. 

But. 

_But_. 

He shut his laptop screen and turned off his desk lamp. The room plunged into darkness. He enjoyed it, the darkness, the silence, until his eyes adjusted and he could pick his way to the door. The hallway outside was still lit but silent too, nobody hanging around this part of the house at this time of night.

Hakyeon’s office door was shut. Taekwoon knocked gently, and Hakyeon’s subsequent call for him to come in was faint enough that Taekwoon almost missed it. 

Hakyeon sat at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, buttons unfastened at his collar like Sanghyuk’s had been. His hair, perfect ink black, didn’t have a strand out of place, but the shadows under his eyes belied his tiredness. He was looking right at the door, anticipating, and for a moment their eyes met, Hakyeon’s old beyond his age, the years of hard work and distrust and killing taking their toll there where they hadn’t touched his face or body. 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said, giving him a tired smile. “What’s up?” 

_Why are you keeping things from me,_ Taekwoon wanted to ask. _Is it because you don’t trust me anymore. What do I have to do to get you to understand how much I—_

“I’m going to call for take out,” Taekwoon said. “You want some?” 

Hakyeon threw his pen down. “Only if you get the spicy peanut noodles,” he said, and laughed, bright and beautiful, when Taekwoon scrunched his face up. 

——

Before Hongbin left Wonshik’s apartment, Wonshik had insisted on getting his phone number. It wasn’t that he’d expected anything— truthfully, he’d half thought that the number Hongbin had easily scribbled down was a fake. Their night together had gone well, Wonshik doubted he was alone in considering the sex _excellent_ , but sometimes that was all people wanted it to be: one night with a perfect stranger, never to be repeated. Hongbin had struck Wonshik as that type of person.

But the next day when Wonshik had sent the text, a simple, _hey, this is wonshik_ , Hongbin had replied. Not immediately, but he did it. He even offered to meet Wonshik again, during the day this time, which definitely surprised Wonshik. 

Maybe he replied to the offer a little too fast, a little too eager, but Hongbin didn’t seem put off by it.

Hongbin chose the place, considerately naming a coffee shop not far from the bar they’d first met in. Wonshik had still needed to look it up on Google maps to figure out where it was, because he’d never been, which he didn’t say. It wasn’t the type of place Wonshik normally frequented, with its mismatched tables and chairs, chalkboard outside naming the weird daily specials. Wonshik drank coffee, sure, but only the strong black stuff, to keep him awake through long nights spent on stakeouts or helping Hakyeon with a project. He’d never been quite comfortable in coffee shops like this. 

Wonshik was careful to arrive on time, but found Hongbin already there. He looked like he’d come much earlier, tucked away in the corner, his coffee already half-drunk and his nose stuck in a book. He didn’t look up when Wonshik walked in, too absorbed in his reading to notice a murder taking place around him. Wonshik wandered up to the counter, where a perky girl who looked like she’d barely graduated high school took his order of a black coffee with more than a hint of confusion, and kept asking if he was sure he didn’t want anything else. 

“Another one of whatever he had,” Wonshik said, pointing at Hongbin, who still hadn’t noticed him. He ended up with something called a low-fat skim-milk white chocolate mocha to go with his black coffee. 

Hongbin looked up as Wonshik neared his table, blinking for a moment up at him. Next to the book that Hongbin was reading there was a legal pad filled with almost unintelligible scribble and approximately fifty million pens, all in different colours. Wonshik had to navigate them carefully to put down the cups. 

“Sorry,” said Hongbin. He closed his book and laid it down and then started collecting up his pens. “Midterms are next week and I’m trying to cram as many case studies into my head as humanly possible.” 

Wonshik peered at the book. _Corporate Finance Law_ , said the uninspiring cover. “You’re in law school?” he asked. Part of him was surprised but the rest wasn’t; that accent screeched law or business school. But he was reassessing Hongbin, just a little bit. Anyone who survived a single semester of college was impressive to Wonshik, never mind graduating and continuing past that. 

Hongbin nodded. “I’m in my second year.” He took a sip of his old coffee and grimaced; it must have gone cold. Wonshik pushed the new cup towards him and Hongbin blinked in surprise. “Thank you. How did you know what to get?” 

“The girl behind the counter remembered what you ordered,” Wonshik said. She’d double-checked where he was pointing by asking, _The pretty one in the corner?_ and then giggling, but Hongbin probably didn’t need to know that. 

Hongbin sipped at the new coffee. He looked like he belonged in the coffee shop, in jeans and a striped shirt, v-necked, that showed off his arms. There was a grey cardigan and a black scarf slung over the back of his seat. He looked as beautiful as he had done in the nightclub, as beautiful as he looked in Wonshik’s bed. Wonshik had tried his best, but his wardrobe consisted mostly of suits, old comfortable jeans, or weird signature pieces he spent too much money on and then never wore. He’d dug up a sweater from somewhere, cranberry red and soft, and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, but he didn’t think he could pull off the casual style Hongbin was managing. 

“I’m glad you came,” Hongbin said softly into the silence that had begun to form. 

“I’m glad you invited me,” Wonshik said. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t expected the invitation, but it had pleased him more than he would be willing to admit to. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, though, because Jaehwan was still complaining about being ditched at the bar so Wonshik could get laid, even though he was the one who had dared him to do it. 

“I don’t—” Hongbin broke off and chewed his bottom lip for a few seconds, looking frustrated. “I wanted to talk to you, about— about what happened.” 

Wonshik hadn’t been aware that anything particularly untoward had happened between them. It didn’t sound like this conversation was going to go the way he’d wanted it to. When Hongbin had offered to meet, part of Wonshik had begun to hope for the best, caution be damned. There had been real chemistry between them, and busy as his job kept him, Wonshik didn’t want to overlook something as important as that. He didn’t often meet new people outside the family. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I don’t usually do that,” Hongbin said. He looked at Wonshik as if that explained everything, but it explained absolutely nothing. 

“Do _what_?” Wonshik asked, half-exasperated. 

Hongbin went pink across his nose, and his eyes skittered away from Wonshik for a second. “Go home with someone when I first meet them,” he said, very softly. 

_Ah_. Wonshik let the silence stretch out a little, letting his bafflement and slight amusement fill in the space. Hongbin didn’t elaborate, and Wonshik didn’t know what the actual problem was. “Do you feel bad about it?” he tried. 

Wonshik thought Hongbin might be squirming. “No, not really.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” Wonshik asked.

Hongbin picked up his coffee with both hands, cupping it like it was a focus point, something that could keep him grounded. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and Wonshik let him, drinking more of his own coffee as he waited. “Like I said I don’t— I don’t usually do that. It never felt like a good idea before. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about it. And I don’t know how _you_ feel about it.” 

Wonshik made a noise, acknowledging the words. He’d known at the time that Hongbin didn’t seem like the type to have one night stands, but his enthusiasm during had seemed to belie that. Wonshik had not had to coax him. When he’d kissed Hongbin outside of the second bar, Hongbin had kissed back; and it had been Hongbin who suggested going back to his place. But now this. “Do you think I’m judging you for it, or something?” 

Hongbin was definitely squirming now. “No, I guess not, I just didn’t know if you, you know, did that regularly, or— or—” 

Wonshik smiled. He could almost hear Jaehwan’s dripping sarcasm in his ear, some comment about Wonshik’s less than prudish sensibilities. “I wouldn’t say that I do it regularly, but it’s not unusual either.” He’d never had someone ask him out afterwards purely to pick his brain about what it meant, though. If anyone did contact him after the fact, it was usually for a repeat performance. 

Hongbin seemed like he didn’t know what to make of that. “And you don’t— like, that’s usually it?” 

“In case you missed it,” Wonshik said, “I was the one who texted you afterwards. Sometimes I find people that I click with, and I thought that happened with you. I wanted to see you again.” 

“For sex?” 

Hongbin sounded so unsure of himself, nothing like the guy that Wonshik had picked up in the bar, the one that had seemed so certain of what he wanted and how to get it. Wonshik wasn’t good with words, not like this, and for a moment or two he didn’t know how to reassure Hongbin. He still didn’t think he entirely knew what the problem was. On a whim, he reached over and touched the back of Hongbin’s hand where it was clutching his coffee cup like a lifeline. The half-skull tattooed on the back of Wonshik’s hand looked incongruous next to Hongbin’s pale skin. “No,” Wonshik said. “Not just for sex. I wanted to see you again, nothing more and nothing less.” 

“I thought—” Hongbin bit his bottom lip again; Wonshik tried to stop his mind wandering by thoughts of his mouth. When Hongbin started talking again, his voice was softer, and Wonshik had to lean in a little. “I needed that night. I was frustrated over family stuff and I needed an outlet for it. I wasn’t expecting us to click, like you said, but we did.” He paused, and Wonshik closed his fingers around the back of his hand, trying to be encouraging without words. “I thought maybe I could ask you for dinner but that might have been too much, considering, and I wasn’t sure how you felt about any of it, and I’m not, you know, the best person to date, I’ve got a lot of stuff going on that most people don’t need to deal with.” 

He gave Wonshik a quick anxious look. Wonshik could feel something warm rushing through him, so it was hard to keep his voice gentle when he said, “Hey. You want to get dinner with me sometime?” 

Hongbin looked at him again, for longer this time, and then down at their hands. His smile, when it came, was a little wry, a little pleased. “I’d love to,” he said. “Can we get Chinese food?” 

Wonshik threaded their fingers together and squeezed. “Sure.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter kicked my ass. there's a scene in this chapter that has been rewritten 3 times and gone through 3 rounds of edits. i am so tired of looking at this scene. i still haven't finished chapter 15!!! because i've spent 2 weeks rewriting this chapter. 
> 
> i didn't get to reply to all the comments on the previous chapter, which i'm sad about. i read all of them and will be trying my best to reply to them all! this has been an extremely busy 2 weeks. i'm very tired.

Jaehwan parked the black sedan he’d borrowed back in its designated spot in the employee garage and sat for a few seconds letting the knowledge of being home wash over him. It didn’t fix everything but slowly the heightened awareness that came from surveillance began to drop off, bringing him back down to his baseline level, which Wonshik had once called _twitchy but not like a crazy homeless person you’d cross the street to avoid twitchy_. Driving through the gates into the family property was always a reassurance, the house a sign of relative safety. Jaehwan could relax here— as much as he ever could. 

He climbed out of the car and slung the camera, in its case, over one shoulder whilst he grabbed his suit jacket from where he’d thrown it on the back seat. A couple of other cars were missing: an SUV, another of the sedans. He wondered who was out and who was about. He hadn’t had time to check the schedule this morning before he left, but the schedule was often functionally useless, as Taekwoon purposely kept things off it. 

Outside of the garage the large driveway stretched back down to the front gates, and he followed it a moment before swerving to skirt around the side of the house into the backyard. It was late afternoon, not late enough for the sun to be setting but enough that there was a slight chill in the air. The car keys were heavy in his pocket. Mentally, he ran through the photographs he’d taken that day, trying to decide if he had anything they could actually use. He’d started this job by staking out the mayor’s office, but it was built in such a way that he couldn’t see into it properly; the windows were angled badly, and they had too much glare, many of them mirrored. He would have to think of a new strategy for tomorrow. 

The backyard was not a backyard as Jaehwan understood it, growing up in the suburbs of the city, where backyards were crowded with swingsets and sandpits, such clutter tucked around behind houses where they couldn’t disturb the perfectly manicured front lawns. Here the backyard was an expanse of land, stretching to where high grey stone walls indicated the end of the property. Once there had been trees by that edge, but Taekwoon had them cut down because they impeded the view of anyone attempting to scale the walls. Otherwise, they’d left the gardens the same as when they’d moved in. There was the lawn, tended to by an army of gardeners that came once a week with their industrial mowers to wake Jaehwan up far too early. There was the courtyard, hugging the backdoor of the house, the huge circular fountain in the middle surrounded by grey flag pavement. There were the flowerbeds, filled with plants that Jaehwan didn’t know the name of, and which nobody else ever seemed to care about. 

Beyond the courtyard, far enough away from the house that Taekwoon hadn’t considered them a potential danger, there were a few cherry blossom trees. They had been there when they’d first moved in, and Jaehwan suspected they’d been there longer than even the previous family head had been in power. Jaehwan rarely paid much attention to them, other than when their blossoms fell and became muddy and mushy as he walked over them, like pink melting snow. 

Sanghyuk was standing underneath the trees when Jaehwan rounded the corner, staring up at them, even though it was too early in the year for anything to be blooming just yet. Jaehwan paused for a moment and then adjusted his path so he could come up behind Sanghyuk. He didn’t bother with being sneaky, didn’t try to conceal his footsteps against the flagstones. He suspected Sanghyuk knew he was already there. 

He stopped a few steps away. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Sanghyuk turned and looked at him. He had his hands tucked into the back pockets of his slacks, an oddly college-student-ish position that made the stark white, pressed line of his shirt seem incongruous. His hair was slicked back and it made him look older, sharper; somehow it made him feel dangerous, which was something Jaehwan’s body registered before his mind had quite matched up. He wondered if the product Sanghyuk used would be gross against Jaehwan’s hands if he ran them through Sanghyuk’s hair. Probably, but Jaehwan didn’t know that he cared. 

Sanghyuk smiled, which broke the dangerous quality. “Looking for the mass grave of all the fingers and hands,” he said. 

Jaehwan laughed, coming closer and sliding his jacket on to ward off the chill that was now raising goosebumps on his arms. “I don’t think they’d bury them in the backyard.” 

“No?” Sanghyuk swept his gaze across the lawn for a moment before he turned back. “Where would they bury them?” 

“Oh, I’m sure they’d have a special place for that,” Jaehwan said. “Somewhere outside of the city limits.” 

“For someone who claimed to not know what they do with them, you seem to have thought about it,” Sanghyuk said. He raised an eyebrow, a playful gesture which, coupled with the hair and buttoned-up shirt, was far more appealing than Jaehwan would like. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt attraction like this, clear and precise. 

“What can I say,” he said, glancing away before the eye contact went too far. “I like to be prepared for all scenarios.” He turned to the house, where lights were beginning to turn on beyond some lower floor windows, and said, “Is Taekwoon around?” 

“No,” said Sanghyuk. He took his hands out of his pockets and leaned back against the nearest tree. He didn’t seem to mind the cold, even though he was just wearing a shirt and narrow tie on his upper body. “He and Hakyeon went out, there’s a dinner party at a council member’s house.” 

Jaehwan was delighted. Taekwoon hated those things. He would be like a grumpy bear all day tomorrow, which always meant he was so much easier to bait. “And they didn’t take you along?” he asked. 

“No, thank god,” Sanghyuk said. “They leave me behind for those things. I can’t yet be trusted to keep my mouth shut, seemingly.” 

Jaehwan smiled. He tried to imagine Sanghyuk at one of those events and could only just manage it. But then it was hard to imagine even Hakyeon and Taekwoon at them. Jaehwan had gone twice before, once all the way back when Hakyeon was still living in the secondary house. Both times had been excruciatingly dull. There was a way of conversing at such events that Jaehwan enjoyed practising, an exercise in wit and subtle cutting remarks, all without sacrificing politeness or social norms. But not even the task of walking that razor’s edge had been able to keep Jaehwan from being bored to tears. Plus, those events always meant he ran the risk of running into someone he had blackmail material on. It had happened just once and then Hakyeon hadn’t asked him to go anymore. Better for his targets to not be able to make him.

“But really, what are you doing out here?” Jaehwan asked again. He glanced up at the tree branches; the blossoms were still closed up tight, green and new. “These aren’t going to bloom for another few weeks, you know?” 

“I know.” Sanghyuk reached up and touched the nearest branch. The look on his face seemed contemplative. “It’s just that they don’t have these at the other house. I like looking at them, even now.” 

“The other house?” Jaehwan kept his voice casual, injecting genuine curiosity into the words. In reality, he had gone digging for more information on Sanghyuk, of course he had. Someone new in the family, close enough to Hakyeon to be a trainee bodyguard, screamed for Jaehwan to investigate. He had been surprised to find that Sanghyuk had an employee record going back a few years, and that the address on file had been, until recently, the secondary house. 

“Mm.” Sanghyuk dropped his hand and looked at him. “I was in the secondary house, you’ve probably been there.” 

Jaehwan tried not to smile. “Yes, I’ve been there. I joined the family before we made the move.” 

Sanghyuk shrugged lightly. “Yeah, well, I was living there while I was in training. It didn’t make sense to move me here too soon, there would be too many distractions.” 

“You lived alone there?” Jaehwan asked. “I didn’t know anyone still inhabited it.” 

“There’s a couple of people,” Sanghyuk said. “Or at least, there were. And housekeeper would come in during the day, and a gardener came once a week. I was mostly alone though, except for when Taekwoon was around. I didn’t mind that, really. I’m pretty used to it.” 

“And your parents didn’t mind you living alone there?” Jaehwan found that hard to believe. Most of their new recruits were completely estranged from their family, it was almost a requirement. No parent wanted their child to become part of this world. 

Something passed over Sanghyuk’s face. It was not that he turned cold, exactly, and not even that he had gone blank. But for a moment, there was something vacant in his eyes. “They died,” he said. “When I was a kid.” 

“Oh,” said Jaehwan. He thought he could feel himself turning red and he had to fight it back down. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sanghyuk said. He straightened up and started moving towards the house, motioning for Jaehwan to walk with him. “It was a long time ago. They were part of the family, anyway, so they wouldn’t have minded me joining up.” 

Jaehwan mulled that over for a moment. He wanted to know more, but then when had he never wanted to know more; it was not a desire for gossip so much as a need to have all the information at his fingertips. But he wasn’t going to ask Sanghyuk anymore than he had offered. He’d prefer not to see that vacant look again. 

“Does this make Hakyeon and Taekwoon your adopted parents?” he asked, and was rewarded by Sanghyuk grinning. 

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk said. He held open the French door that led into the back entrance and let Jaehwan slip into the building first. He did it so casually, so effortlessly, that Jaehwan suspected it was a part of the training he had received, catering for the every whim of whoever he was protecting. 

“You know,” Jaehwan said, as the door shut behind them and they stood in the warm house, the sounds of movement and business as usual floating down to them. “Some of the lower guys think that you’re fucking one of them.” 

Sanghyuk looked surprised for a moment, his eyes snapping to Jaehwan’s. There was slight horror there, although not necessarily the kind that Jaehwan would have expected if Sanghyuk was straight. Jaehwan had seen _that_ horror before, even from men who professed to be okay with ‘alternative sexualities’, as one of them had called it. The mere idea of being in a sexual relationship with another man could bring those people out in hives. 

Then Sanghyuk seemed to get ahold of himself, shaking his head a little. “That’s— not something I expected you to say,” he said. “That’s honestly a disturbing thought.” 

“Is it?” Jaehwan asked. It came out light and teasing and he hadn’t quite meant it to. “They’re very good looking.” 

“They’re really not my type,” Sanghyuk said. 

Jaehwan realised they were still standing in the entryway, somewhat too close. One more step closer from either of them would bring their bodies into contact. Sanghyuk seemed to realise it too, or maybe he’d always been aware, and he looked down and gave Jaehwan a smile that was almost secretive. 

“What is your type?” Jaehwan asked. He braced himself for an answer that he wasn’t going to like, something like _petite girls_ or _muscle-bound gym rats_. Instead, Sanghyuk was silent for a long few moments, letting them drag out. He watched Jaehwan’s face; Jaehwan kept it expressionless. 

“Why do you ask?” Sanghyuk said, copying Jaehwan’s teasing tone from earlier. “Are you hoping I’ll say pretty doctors?” 

Jaehwan did flush then, and Sanghyuk stepped away from him, smiling. Jaehwan had a few moments of sheer panic before he got himself together enough to say, in a calm, neutral tone, “I never graduated from med school.” 

“I know,” Sanghyuk said. For a moment Jaehwan thought Sanghyuk was going to reach out and touch him, but instead Sanghyuk just nodded his head towards him and then moved to leave the room. Jaehwan watched him go, feeling wrong-footed and more than a little turned on. 

Whoever had taught Han Sanghyuk how to flirt had done an impeccable job, he thought wryly. 

——

Wonshik had thought long and hard over where to bring Hongbin for their first date. He’d promised to take Hongbin to get Chinese food together, but he didn’t, as a rule, enjoy taking people to dinner for a first date. He preferred to keep that for later into the relationship, when any potential awkwardness had hopefully already been worked out. He hated getting to know a person across a dinner table, when they were on their best behaviour and weren’t going to let anything real, or true, out. Chinese food could wait; he wanted something more special.

So he’d needed a place that was somewhat unusual, but not too much so. He’d spent an entire evening googling local events, dismissing flower arranging contests and new exhibits at the history museum before he stumbled across the travelling fair that had come into town for the week. He texted Hongbin only a time and a subway exit to meet at, and after a few initial questions, Hongbin had either gotten the hint that it was a secret, or done his own research and figured it out. 

They met on a Wednesday, in the late afternoon; Wonshik had only been able to request tonight or Thursday evening off without there being a problem, and Hongbin had a late class on Thursdays. Today he’d clearly had a chance to go home after his classes let out; his backpack had been replaced by an expensive looking leather satchel, and although he’d looked put together in the coffee shop, there was something more deliberate about it now, in skinny jeans, a pale blue t-shirt, and a dark bomber jacket. As he neared, Wonshik saw Hongbin look him up and down and then visibly relax, as if he wasn’t sure his outfit would be suitable. Wonshik had only told him _casual_ , after all. 

He looked unsure, the same way he had in the coffee shop. He stopped in front of Wonshik, a step away from being within touching distance, and gave Wonshik a small smile. “Hi.” 

Wonshik kept his hands in the pockets of his own jeans, the nicest, newest pair he owned, kept his posture loose. He was wearing a t-shirt too, dark green, and his leather jacket, worn after years of use but in good shape. Now that they were standing so close, he could see that Hongbin’s jacket was dark grey and had the SNU logo printed on the arm in white lettering, and, on the back, SCHOOL OF LAW. It looked brand new.

“Hey,” he said. “You found it.” 

Hongbin nodded, seeming a little distracted. He was looking at the entrance to the fairgrounds. The travelling fair was set up on the city fairgrounds, which was neutral enough territory that Wonshik didn’t feel too bad about going here. It was a large stretch of land that belonged to the city and nobody else, and, every few months, one travelling theme park or another would set up for a week before moving on. They all looked the same to Wonshik, and seemed to be staffed by the same people each time, but were, ostensibly, different. 

“A fair,” Hongbin said, looking at Wonshik with a raised eyebrow. 

“What,” said Wonshik cheerfully, “don’t you like rollercoasters?” 

Hongbin’s eyes dropped away from him, to the ground for a moment and then back up, to the entrance. His mouth moved, almost pursing, and then he said, “I’ve never been on one.” 

Wonshik was so surprised it took him a couple of seconds to work his words. “Sorry, what? You’ve never been on a rollercoaster?” 

Hongbin sighed. His shoulders slumped; he turned half away from Wonshik, as if ashamed. “No. My family— we don’t— this isn’t the kind of thing we do.” 

_Figures_ , Wonshik said. _Rich kids_. He doubted Hakyeon had ever been to a theme park; hell, he doubted Jaehwan had ever been to something like this before, and his family had been merely middle class. He sighed, too gustily to be sincere. “I’ll have to take you to a proper theme park sometime,” he said. “The roller coasters here barely even count.” 

Hongbin looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out if Wonshik was teasing, and then smiled, looking grateful. When Wonshik took his hand, his eyes widened but he didn’t let go, and he let Wonshik tug him through the arched entrance to the fairground, joining the crowd of people streaming inside.

The fairground was ringed on all sides by metal chain fencing, and inside the grass had mostly been worn away to nothing but loose dirt, or packed down to solid ground underneath the legs and bases of the rides. The atmosphere was one of organised chaos, the rows of food stalls and vendors clearly placed according to some layout that kept the crowd moving further and further into the maze of rides and rigged games. The air was thick with the scent of hot dogs, fried onions, and sickly sweet funnel cake, each food truck blasting heat which warmed up the chill in the late March evening. 

Hongbin looked around, seemingly in a daze, not hearing the calls from a nearby vendor attempting to get him to come and try out his game, one of those hook-a-duck scams. Wonshik kept them moving through the crowded entry area until they came to a calmer spot where they could duck to the side between two food trucks, one selling ddeokbokki, the other lean-looking hamburgers. There, Hongbin could look his fill. It was so loud it was hard to hear himself think, the chatter of patrons and shouts from the workers punctuated every so often by excited screams from people on the rides nearby. 

Hongbin turned to him, his face alight with wonder. “This is amazing,” he said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t quite believe it was true. Wonshik understood that feeling; when he’d been a child, nowhere had felt as magical as the fair, and now, with the sun setting in the distance and twilight setting in, he could feel that same sensation once more. 

Wonshik smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” This time, Wonshik watched as Hongbin took his hand, his touch still tentative but seeming determined. Wonshik curled his fingers around Hongbin’s own and squeezed a little. “What do you want to do first?” he asked. 

Hongbin’s eyes flickered around the fairground, taking in all that he could see; in reality the rides stretched over a mile in front of them, hidden right now behind each other. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “What do you recommend?” 

Wonshik grinned, the same shark-smile he’d given Hongbin in the bar when they’d first met. “How do you feel about heights?” 

Almost two hours later, they’d done the entire loop of the park and then, without speaking about it, had continued past the entrance and started the loop again. It was not just roller coasters that Hongbin had never experienced — other than the merry-go-round and the ferris wheel, which he had vague memories of riding one time on vacation at the beach, he’d never been on a single ride here. All of them he looked at with mingled excitement and horror. Hongbin, it turned out, had little trouble with heights but was not exactly a thrill seeker — “No,” he’d said, staring up at the pendulum ride in horror. “No way. I’m not scared of heights but I’m scared of _death_ , Wonshik.”

“You won’t die,” Wonshik said, laughing. 

“Can you _promise_ that,” Hongbin had said, and Wonshik had been forced to concede the point. 

But they’d been on the pirate ship and the waltzer, and Hongbin had asked to go on one of the roller coasters, which had been suitably disappointing. They’d eaten greasy hamburgers on a picnic bench next to a family with small, overly excited children who kept screaming out the names of the next rides they wanted to go on. Wonshik had expected Hongbin to be annoyed by that, but instead Hongbin had just looked at the kids with a perplexed expression, like he’d never seen such behaviour in his entire life. 

Now, the park was starting to empty out, the families being replaced by groups of high school students or college-aged couples. After the initial bout of hand holding, there had been no more, and Wonshik would like to take Hongbin’s hand again, but Hongbin had them stuffed in his back pockets as he turned his face from side to side, drinking in all the sights again. 

Wonshik watched Hongbin’s gaze fall on a funnel cake stall and a moment later, a small furrow appeared in his brow. “Do you want some?” Wonshik asked, not even pretending like he hadn’t been looking; Hongbin had caught him too much tonight to bother hiding it. 

“What is it?” Hongbin asked. He drew closer to the stall and peered curiously at the dessert one teenage girl held, trying to be inconspicuous, but she and her friends noticed and started giggling together, thinking the handsome man was looking at her and not her cake. 

“Funnel cake,” Wonshik said. Then he repeated; “Do you want some?” 

“Is it good?” 

“It’s great.” Hongbin didn’t look too convinced, so Wonshik pulled his wallet from his pocket and joined the line at the stall. After a moment, Hongbin drifted over to stand with him, a little too close. Their shoulders brushed. Hongbin put his hand over Wonshik’s holding the wallet and tried to push it down. 

“I can buy it myself,” he said. He was smiling like he thought Wonshik was ridiculous. 

“You’re a student,” Wonshik said breezily. 

“I am a student,” Hongbin agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t drop a little money on some cake.” 

“Let me buy this for you,” Wonshik said. “It’s a treat, I want to treat you.” He wanted to treat Hongbin to more than just funnel cake, he wanted to buy him oysters and take him to the best hotels where they could drink champagne in bed, and he wanted to buy him gifts, whatever Hongbin wanted. Although that could probably backfire; even though he’d spent relatively little time in Hongbin’s company, he still knew enough to know that Hongbin was as likely to ask for law textbooks or new highlighter sets than he was to ask for pearls or diamonds. 

Hongbin subsided, still with that smile, and after Wonshik had bought the funnel cake and gave it a generous dusting of icing sugar, he led them behind the stall to the small, sloping hill that marked this edge of the fairgrounds. The grass still grew here, green but dry, and there were a couple of other groups sitting down, either on blankets or their own jackets. Wonshik sat straight on the ground, uncaring about his jeans. Hongbin hesitated a moment, then followed suit. 

From up here, it was possible to see most of the fairgrounds. The sun had set and now everything was lit up in bright colours, the flashing lights of the rides more vibrant than the streetlamps that had been installed. Wonshik, after he’d run away from home, had lived for a while by the train station, which was a respectable area until one ventured too far east and entered a labyrinth of bars and seedy nightclubs and brazenly advertised brothels. That part of the city never slept and Wonshik’s tiny, one-roomed hovel of an apartment had sat above an all-night convenience store, the signage above the door making it bright as day even in the dead of night. Not that Wonshik had spent a lot of time there after the sun had set — he’d spent most nights staggering from one bar to another, getting in fights or getting thrown out for being too drunk to stand. 

But the fairgrounds made him think of that time, a little, when, even in the darkness of nighttime, the air was still frenetic with colour. It was nicer here though, with Hongbin breaking off a little bit of funnel cake beside him, grimacing at the grease on his fingers. He popped it into his mouth, daintily, and chewed; after a moment, his eyebrows shot up. 

“This is really good,” he said, tone pure surprise. 

“I told you,” said Wonshik lazily. He lay back, using his elbows to hold himself up. “I wouldn’t have bought you something that tasted bad.” 

“Mm.” Hongbin tore more of the cake off and ate it. Each bit he took was small, so unlike other people Wonshik had seen eating it, stuffing too much into their mouths at one time. His posture was ramrod straight sitting on the hill. His lips were shiny with the grease now. Wonshik wanted to kiss him badly. 

To distract himself, he said, “I can’t believe you’ve never had funnel cake before.” 

“There’s a lot of things I’ve never had before you,” Hongbin said. Then he flushed bright red as his words caught up to him, and Wonshik burst into laughter. 

“Oh?” he managed. He leered at Hongbin, deliberately over the top. Was it the finger tattoos? It was probably the finger tattoos. “Like what?” 

Hongbin made a mortified sound. “Like this,” he said, holding up the funnel cake. “And, um. This.” He motioned to the fairground with a broad sweep of his arm. 

“The rides?” 

“Not exactly,” Hongbin said. “It’s more than that.” He lapsed into silence, picking at the funnel cake again. Wonshik opened his mouth around an unformed question, _what do you mean, what have I given you here_ , but Hongbin said, suddenly, “What do you do?” 

Wonshik reached over and stole some of the cake. “What do you mean?” 

“For a job,” Hongbin elaborated. “You have one, right? What do you do that allows you to be a big spender and buy people funnel cake.” 

“I only buy the beautiful people funnel cake,” Wonshik said, dropping a wink to cover how uncomfortable he felt. Hongbin went pink. “And I don’t do anything exciting. I work as a bouncer.” 

It was a familiar lie, one he’d told often when one night stands asked him what he did. It was a common question, one of those innocuous ones that people asked to get to know other people. He was comfortable with the lie, most of the time. It had a relationship with the truth, a second cousin, perhaps, or a step-aunt. Telling it to Hongbin made him feel bad.

“Where?” Hongbin asked, licking sugar from his fingers like it was nothing. 

“The Golden Tiger,” Wonshik said, watching Hongbin’s tongue peek out, “on Grey Street.” 

It was a real place but fully in Cha territory. Wonshik waited but there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition in Hongbin’s eyes; he didn’t know the place, which meant he didn’t know Cha territory. Something eased inside Wonshik, whilst something else soured. It meant his lies were safe, but he found that he didn’t want to lie to Hongbin more than necessary. 

After a moment Hongbin said, “Mm, that would explain the tattoos then.” 

Wonshik burst into laughter, shifting over so that his shoulder was pressed to Hongbin’s hip. “My tattoos have nothing to do with my job,” he said, which was the truth. 

“What are they to do with?” Hongbin asked. He set aside the empty paper basket from the funnel cake and looked down at Wonshik. The morning after they’d met, Hongbin had spent a not inconsiderable time tracing his fingers over Wonshik’s tattoos, on his chest and down his arms, not asking what they were or meant, but just touching them. Some of them had obvious meanings, others only had meaning to Wonshik. 

“Ah,” Wonshik said, smiling. “I’m afraid you don’t unlock my tattoo secrets until the fourth date.” 

Hongbin smiled too, the joy of it lighting his face up. He was so young, so seemingly unsure and naive in the world, that Wonshik didn’t know what to do with it. He reached up a hand and cupped Hongbin’s cheek, and Hongbin let himself be tugged down so that Wonshik could kiss the icing sugar from his mouth. 

——

Back when they’d first moved into the house and Jaehwan had claimed his basement office for himself, Taekwoon had sent a contractor they’d hired to update the telephone and internet down to Jaehwan’s office to hook him up to the internal house line. Jaehwan had sent him right back, refusing to even let him in the room. He doubted Taekwoon really believed Jaehwan would have let it happen; they’d been working together long enough by then that Taekwoon should have known better. But it had been an offering, one which said, _here, we’re legitimising your space_ , space Jaehwan had not had before, nor asked permission to claim. 

The problem was that, without the internal phone line, and with no cell phone signal or internet down there, if Jaehwan wanted to talk to someone, he had to go and seek them out. This wasn’t a problem with most people, who, if they had offices, tended to be in their office, but Taekwoon was never quite where he was expected to be. 

Today Jaehwan found him in the kitchens, leaning against the marble-topped counters and simultaneously watching the kitchen staff prepare dinner and scrolling through an article on information security on his tablet. Jaehwan couldn’t work out if Taekwoon was simply interested in how the meal was prepared or if he was making sure no one tampered with it. Jaehwan was a paranoid bastard, he could admit it, but Taekwoon blew him out of the water when it came to protecting Hakyeon. 

“Hey,” Jaehwan said. Taekwoon flicked his eyes in his direction, acknowledging him. He hadn’t moved when Jaehwan had entered the room, but, like Sanghyuk, he had no doubt registered the entrance the moment he’d slipped in the door. “Can we talk?” 

Taekwoon switched the tablet screen off and straightened up. “Sure,” he said. “Here or in your office?” 

“My office,” said Jaehwan. Taekwoon nodded and followed him without a word, keeping up his silence as they walked through the hallways and down the stairs to the basement, taking a far more straightforward path than Jaehwan had taken tracking Taekwoon down. Jaehwan kept up a stream of inane chatter, about dinner and books he would like to read and a movie trailer he’d watched the night before. Silence put him on edge; silence made it too easy for his brain to play tricks on him. Taekwoon mostly ignored the talk, although once or twice he snorted softly at something more ridiculous that Jaehwan said. He was, for the most part, just a solid presence a step behind. 

When Jaehwan had first met Taekwoon, seven years earlier, Taekwoon had been a silent, intimidating figure that stood at Hakyeon’s right hand side, literally. Jaehwan sometimes thought that Taekwoon had been even quieter back then, but it was more likely that Jaehwan had simply grown used to Taekwoon’s silences and quiet tone and knew how to interpret him. At that first meeting, it had seemed ridiculous that the tall, broad guy with the gaze like cold steel could be the lackey, whilst the pretty, slim man that moved with a sensuality that would put a whore to shame could be a nephew of the Cha family. 

Jaehwan’s office, when he unlocked and opened the door, still smelled vaguely of the pizza he’d eaten there for dinner last night. It wasn’t like he could open a window to dispel the scent, but he saw Taekwoon wrinkle his nose, just slightly, for a second. If Taekwoon had let him see it, then he was being seriously judged. Jaehwan stuck out his tongue, but with his back to Taekwoon, so Taekwoon couldn’t see. 

“What do you have for me?” Taekwoon asked, blunt. Jaehwan had waited a couple of days after the council member party in the hopes of catching Taekwoon in a good mood, but that had always been unlikely to happen. There was nowhere for him to sit so he leaned against the wall. He took up most of the wall. 

Jaehwan unlocked one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a brown folder. He handed it to Taekwoon, who took it and raised an eyebrow, probably at how slim it was. “Honestly, I couldn’t find much,” Jaehwan said. “Even less that I actually understood. I put it all in there, regardless. He’s got his fingers in some questionable pies, that’s all I can say.” 

Taekwoon opened the folder as he spoke and flicked through the papers, a combination of written reports, stake-out notes, and photographs. He pulled out one photograph, of the mayor shaking the hand of someone with the sleek, mean look of a family member, presumably a Lee. The man had a number two tattooed on the inside of his wrist, visible because his suit sleeve had ridden up a bit. Jaehwan thought it was ugly, but he also knew it probably wasn’t something the man had gotten for the sake of vanity. “What does the tattoo mean?” he asked, nodding towards the photo. 

Taekwoon looked up and blinked like he’d forgotten Jaehwan was in the room. “What?” 

“The tattoo,” Jaehwan said again, “what does it mean? If anything. We both know some people just like to waste ink on ugly things.” He waited for Taekwoon to say something about Wonshik, he’d lined the joke up perfectly, but Taekwoon just looked at him blankly; it was clear he wasn’t taking anything Jaehwan said in. He looked back to the photo and frowned. “What?” Jaehwan asked, beginning to frown himself. “What is it?” 

Taekwoon was silent. He put the photo back carefully and continued looking through the file. Jaehwan stamped down on his spike of annoyance, telling himself to wait it out. It wasn’t like Taekwoon keeping things from him was anything new. Hakyeon at least shared things once in awhile, but getting information from Taekwoon if he didn’t want to give it out was like getting blood from a stone. Jaehwan, who was well versed in the ways men could be made to talk, rather suspected that Taekwoon would take any secrets he had to the grave rather than spill them under pressure. 

Jaehwan hadn’t been exaggerating, though; there really wasn’t much there in the folder. That fact gnawed at him, like an itch under his skin. He didn’t like it when there was something he _couldn’t_ get information on. The mayor kept a very tight schedule, and spent most of his day in his office, a room high up in city hall that didn’t face any other buildings. It was probably to deter snipers but it also made it difficult to get photographs of whoever the mayor was meeting. Jaehwan had spent a day lurking in the lobby of the building but it wasn’t something he could repeat without being noticed in more than passing. All of his information came from following whenever the mayor ventured outside, and from selected use of Jaehwan’s network of informants. He hadn’t gone to a prestigious college for no reason; Jaehwan was friends with, or more usually, had blackmail material on any number of high profile members of city society. He wasn’t willing to use most of his connections on something like this, but he’d found some things out. 

“The tattoo means something,” Taekwoon said after a silent couple of minutes. “I just don’t know what it is yet. This is great work, Jaehwan, but I need you to do some more digging.” 

Jaehwan just bit back the groan that rose inside him. He thought, for a moment, of complaining. But it was not, he knew, that Taekwoon didn’t know about the difficulty of this for Jaehwan, nor that he didn’t care. It was, truly, that he needed someone he could trust, and that circle was small, and Wonshik _was_ busy, and terrible at undercover work besides. His ugly tattoos made blending in difficult.

Taekwoon gave him a look that was blank on the surface but underneath, there was sympathy. It mollified Jaehwan, just a little. “I need you to look into these guys,” Taekwoon said, pulling out the picture of the man with the tattoo. “I want to know what their deal is. They seem to be a street gang, but they’re not. I want to know who they’re working for, if it isn’t the mayor himself.” 

Jaehwan hummed under his breath and took the folder back. It meant more surveillance but it seemed likely to be more entertaining than stalking the mayor. “Will I be getting overtime pay for this?” 

Taekwoon snorted. “Good joke.” 

Jaehwan rolled his eyes at Taekwoon’s back as he left the office. He hadn’t actually been joking. 

——

It was late afternoon when they pulled to a stop on the street near Chang’s. It was a decent enough neighbourhood that they could leave the car without worrying about it, but not decent enough to protest a high profile brothel in its midst. Though it wasn’t as if Chang’s was loud— either in terms of noise or in drawing attention to itself. The entrance was down a side alley, the door tucked away, and Hakyeon led the way, Wonshik keeping easy pace behind him. He tended to stay a little further back from Hakyeon than Taekwoon and Sanghyuk did; he had not yet learned how to hover close while also avoiding stepping on Hakyeon’s shoes. 

Through the innocuous door, which Wonshik held open for him, was a flight of well-lit stairs and another door, this one more elaborate, in dark wood with gold panelling. Hakyeon stepped through into the quiet reception area, which was empty apart from the woman behind the desk. It was a large room, about the size of the entryway of the family house. The carpet was a plush dark blue, no visible signs of wear. There were a number of couches scattered around the room, with dark coffee tables in front of them, everything picked out precisely and matched perfectly to its neighbour. If it were not for the dim lighting and the draped archway to the left of the reception desk, it would have looked like a hotel lobby.

Chang’s was not the biggest brothel on Hakyeon’s books, but it turned the largest profit, so he liked to handle the account himself. He made the trip here once a month, more if something demanded it, just to check that things were running smoothly, and to catch up on anything Chang had to tell him. Even before he had taken over the Cha family, Hakyeon had been aware of Chang and her brothel. His uncle had mentioned her in front of him once or twice, talking about her in the kind of derogatory terms only a man who had married a woman thirty years younger than him would use. 

It had left a lasting impression; Hakyeon had made sure, from the very beginning, to keep Chang on his side. Men could be convinced to part with their secrets in any number of ways, as Jaehwan could attest, but not all of them required pain. Sometimes, this way was better. 

The woman behind the reception desk started to say something — it was before opening time, after all — but then stood and gave a hurried bow when she realised who had just walked in. “Sirs,” she said, as she straightened up. “You are here for your meeting with Madam Chang?” 

Hakyeon inclined his head. The woman pressed a button on the intercom on the desk and murmured something into it. Wonshik stepped up next to Hakyeon, his hands in the pockets of his pants, ruining the lines of his suit. Wonshik could wear a suit with the best of them but there was always something slightly off, to Hakyeon’s eyes. Perhaps it was the tattoos, or the undercut, or perhaps the obvious outline of his gun now that his jacket was pulled tighter; but Wonshik in a suit always just felt dangerous. Hakyeon could dress Wonshik up all he liked but there could be no getting away from the fact that Wonshik was hired muscle. Extremely well paid, highly ranked hired muscle, but hired muscle nonetheless. 

Hakyeon did not normally take Wonshik with him to these sorts of affairs, meetings and dinner parties— Wonshik’s skill set was almost entirely suited to areas that Hakyeon’s own skill set were not, and so Hakyeon tended to let Wonshik deal with his own matters without interfering. Wonshik had proven himself more than capable over the years. Bringing him here, the first time, had been an act of mild desperation; after the takeover, when Hakyeon had begun to visit Chang’s, he had brought Jaehwan, which had been a mistake. Jaehwan’s sense of humour had not endeared him to Chang, or any of the employees. And Hakyeon’s list of trusted aides was rather short, so with Jaehwan crossed off, it was Wonshik— Wonshik or Taekwoon. When Hakyeon couldn’t make these meetings, it was Taekwoon that he sent in his stead, but by silent, mutual agreement he and Taekwoon had managed to contrive it so that they never went to Chang’s together. Hakyeon knew his own reasoning well enough, but had never been curious enough (or brave enough) to ask Taekwoon his.

However, taking Wonshik to Chang’s had ended up being a remarkably good decision. Wonshik was cheerful and easy going and Chang liked him. He also tended to sit quietly without asking any questions, trusting that Hakyeon would tell him anything he needed to know. Wonshik’s philosophy seemed to be that if Hakyeon chose to not tell him something, then clearly he had no reason to know about it. Hakyeon appreciated that about him. 

They had not been waiting long before a girl stepped through the drapes next to the desk. She had long dark hair and wore a pale yellow dress that pulled in tight around her narrow waist. Hakyeon recognised her only vaguely, but he was not sure if she had sat in a meeting before or if he had just seen her around the brothel. There were a lot of attractive, twenty-somethings working here, and Chang often changed who it was that came to greet him. 

She swept into a bow, lower than the receptionist. Once she had straightened up, the girl motioned to the archway behind her. “Madam Chang has asked me to show you to the meeting room,” she said. Her voice had a deeper, huskier tone than Hakyeon had been expecting. “If you could follow me?” 

Hakyeon followed her through the archway, brushing past the curtains, Wonshik close behind. Past that was a wide hallway, with a number of doors leading off. Hakyeon had been given a tour, five years ago, so he vaguely knew where most of the doors led to. Further to the back there were some common areas and the kitchens, private spaces where clients didn’t go. But closer to the reception area at the front, these rooms were mostly bedrooms, although a couple were larger rooms made for entertaining multiple people at once. Hakyeon had been surprised to hear how often groups came for the evening, expecting to be catered to like it was a perfectly normal place to hold a gathering; perhaps he was still naive in ways, but he could not imagine anything more awkward than going to a brothel with friends.

Then again, his only close friend for many years had been Taekwoon. It didn’t bear thinking about. 

A few of the doors hung open and it was noisier back here than in the reception hall, busy with the sounds of people getting ready for opening. Hakyeon spotted through one door a girl sitting at a vanity table, taking curlers out of her hair and singing softly to herself. Two boys were talking in another doorway, one slim and pale, the other dark-haired and already made up for the night. They fell silent as Hakyeon approached, and then they too bowed low as they recognised him. Hakyeon had not laid eyes on the vast majority of those who worked here, but he had no doubt that they all knew exactly who he was and what he looked like. 

The room the girl led Hakyeon and Wonshik to was the usual one, down a side hallway from the main, wider hall. It was a small room that had been superbly decorated, with plush green couches and a dark coffee table right in the middle of the room. As far as Hakyeon knew, it was only ever used for these sorts of meetings, so the intimacy some of the others held was stripped away here. 

Chang was waiting for him there, along with another girl dressed similarly to the one who had shown them in, but in a blue dress instead of yellow. They both rose as Hakyeon entered the room. “Mr Cha,” said Chang, coming forward to greet him, a hand held out. “A pleasure to have you here, as always.” 

Hakyeon took her hand and raised it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the backs of her fingers. She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything, and didn’t take her hand back until Hakyeon released it. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said. 

“Indeed,” said Chang dryly. She stood quite a bit shorter than him, and she was an older woman, her hair streaked through with grey, but she exuded a confidence that often tricked even Hakyeon into believing they were on the same footing in their meetings. Today she was dressed in a grey pencil skirt and a peach blouse, and with her hair tucked into a neat bun and her black heels, she would not have looked out of place in the financial district. She waved a hand to the couch opposite to the one she had been sitting on. “Please, sit,” she said. “My girls will prepare some tea.” 

Hakyeon sat on the couch opposite Chang, who waited until he had taken a seat before she lowered herself elegantly. Wonshik sat in the armchair nearest the door, his usual spot for these meetings, near enough to help if something happened but far enough to be unobtrusive. His posture was loose and easy, elbows against the arms of the chair, hands dangling in towards his lap. The two girls fetched a tea set from a side unit and brought it to the coffee table, where they knelt with their legs tucked beneath them and began to make the tea.

It was made in the traditional way, clearly well taught and practised. Hakyeon watched them work, interested in the ceremony of it, at least; everyone in the room knew that he had no interest in the girls actually preparing it. But then the show had never, as far as he could tell, been about him. It had always been about Chang, because she took pride in the talent and poise of her employees. Because it was important to be hospitable. And because it was just what was done. Hakyeon was a guest, even if he was here for dull business and not pleasure. 

Hakyeon knew she catered these shows to who she was dealing with. In these meetings, his meetings, it had always been like this. Always girls, always modestly dressed. Hakyeon knew it wasn’t always so. But Chang was too smart, too well versed in reading people to risk bringing a male whore in as— as eye candy, for Hakyeon. Yes, he was gay, and yes, everyone knew it, or at least suspected, even if no one really brought it up to Hakyeon’s face. It wasn’t a shameful secret, in a place like a brothel. Really, in a brothel, quieted desires were the first things to be catered to, but Hakyeon would not have wanted this intimate part of himself put on display here, in a business that he owned and ostensibly ran. Even if she had disliked him, Chang knew better than to make him discomfited in such a way. 

She had once told Hakyeon that she disliked games of politics. That did not mean, however, that she was not good at them. 

Hakyeon was served first, one of the girls perching on the other cushion of his couch to hand him a cup of tea that he would not drink anyway. Her spine was very straight, her face relaxed; she gave off an air of professional hospitality that put Hakyeon in mind of a hotel receptionist. The other girl served Wonshik, moving with soft footsteps to his chair. As she neared, she broke character for a moment to smile at Wonshik, a small thing. It happened sometimes; the girls were often more relaxed with Wonshik, for obvious reasons. He enjoyed them in ways Hakyeon did not, and indeed, sometimes he came here in his off hours to enjoy them further. Not that Wonshik told Hakyeon this. But Hakyeon knew.

Today, however, Wonshik looked away from the girl’s smile, his gaze averted as he took the tea from her with murmured thanks. 

Chang was served last, by the girl who’d given Wonshik his tea, and once Chang was delicately holding her cup the girl sat down next to her, opposite the girl whose attention was fixed on Hakyeon. This put her closest to Wonshik, and her body was turned slightly in his direction, ready at any moment to refill his tea. Chang had often commented on the fact that Wonshik actually _drank_ the tea that she took such care to prepare. Hakyeon had always responded with a pleasant smile and a pointed change of subject.

He placed his cup on the table in front of him, careful to not make a noise. Chang sipped at her tea. The girls remained, which meant that Chang did not have anything of importance to tell him. Hakyeon did his best to ignore them. “How have things been since my last visit?” he asked, folding one leg over the other and settling back into the cushions. 

Chang gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. “Things go along as they always do, Mr Cha,” she said. She produced a brown manila folder from somewhere. Hakyeon, who had over two decades of training in _noticing things_ , had learned long ago to not question when she did things like that. “Here are the profits for the quarter. I have taken on a new girl and her training costs are accounted for in there too. It should not take long for her to pay back the debt, she is very pretty.”

“I’m sure,” said Hakyeon, very politely, but Chang gave him a flat look and let him see her pursed lips. He couldn’t help smiling at that. 

Chang handed him the folder, which he took and placed on the seat next to him. He did not look inside; he would keep that until he was home, in his office. To look at it now would be implying that he did not trust her calculations, which, despite being untrue anyway, would rightfully be considered an insult. He _would_ check them, just because everyone could make a mistake, but so much relied on Chang’s good name that she would never do anything to risk that. 

He waited a careful beat and then said, casually, “And there has been no trouble since my last visit?”

“Where there are men there is trouble,” Chang said dryly, picking her tea back up between her cupped hands, her fingers placed in ways that felt very precise. “It entirely depends on what kind of trouble you are referring to, Mr Cha.” 

Hakyeon waved a hand. “Strange men,” he said vaguely. Perhaps too vaguely. But he did not want to give too many details out, not just yet. “Men who seem— out of place.” 

Chang laughed lowly, shaking her head. “Are any men out of place, in a business like this? Our clients’ tastes run just as wide as their socioeconomic statuses. You know this, Mr Cha.” 

“Yes,” said Hakyeon, feeling somewhat awkward. He did not often feel awkward, and he did not like it, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, fishing with such a vague lure.

Truthfully, whatever the new gang that had cropped up signified, they were starting off small and for all that Chang’s was a visible Cha business, it was extremely high profile. Small town gangs would not normally hassle a business like this. But Hakyeon knew so little about this gang, and what their connections were, that he couldn’t dismiss anything out of hand. 

Besides, just because Chang was unlikely to lay eyes on the men of the gang, did not mean she would not come to know of them. They were being bankrolled by someone, and money liked to gossip. Someone would let slip something important at some point and Hakyeon planned on having ears around when that happened. 

There was a beat of silence, the only sound Wonshik shifting in his chair. Then Hakyeon said, slowly, “Of course, if something _were_ to happen — something unusual, unusual even for you — I trust that you would contact us first.” 

Chang raised an eyebrow, but her eyes as she gazed at him over the rim of her teacup were level and serious. “Mr Cha,” she murmured, glancing at the girls to her side. “Would you prefer for me to make this a private meeting?” 

“No,” said Hakyeon, then, “Not yet.” 

Chang nodded. “Then yes,” she said, voice low and serious. “If something— unusual, as you put it, were to happen, then I would contact you.” 

Hakyeon nodded calmly, not letting any of his emotions show. She understood the words as the warning that they were. That something was on the horizon, some potential storm she would have to weather. And Chang would weather it, whatever it was. She had survived Hakyeon’s takeover without a single hair out of place. She would find out whatever she needed to protect herself, and with it, Hakyeon would have the information he needed. His uncle, arrogant and too apt at looking down on others, had never fully realised the value of Chang. Hakyeon had learned a long time ago to do the exact opposite of what his uncle would have done. 

He stood up, taking the manila folder with him. These meetings were rarely long, when there was nothing to discuss, so Chang did not look surprised. She rose also, one smooth movement, and held out her hand again. Hakyeon grasped it normally this time, giving it a perfunctory shake. Once Hakyeon let go she turned to Wonshik, who had also stood, and held her hand out to him. He shook it, giving her a small smile as he did so, one that she returned. 

“It was lovely to see you, Mr Cha, Wonshik,” she said, motioning for the girls to rise. “Chaeun will show you out.” The dark haired girl who had shown them in stepped forward, and for the first time Hakyeon noticed that her feet were not bare, but that she wore little sheer half-socks, so that her feet did not make direct contact with the flooring, dark wood in this room, carpet in the hallway and reception. “Until next time?” 

“Until next time,” Hakyeon confirmed. 

He followed Chaeun back into the hallway, past the long line of bedroom doors. There were more people milling about there now, closer to the opening time. Everyone was semi-dressed and singularly beautiful, enough so that it would have given Hakyeon a complex if he had cared enough. Or perhaps tempted him, if he weren’t so— singularly fixated elsewhere. He kept his eyes set ahead to the middle distance, did not nod back to the bows given in his direction. It was a relief, to step back out into the side street, to escape the cloying mix of perfume and hairspray. 

The sun was starting to set by this point, the sky burnished orange and red. When Wonshik stepped up to the car to hold the back door open for him, the light feathered through his hair, backlit his shoulders so that they seemed broader than normal in his suit. The soft lighting did nothing to diminish that quality that Hakyeon had always seen in Wonshik; if anything, he just looked more dangerous. 

He paused before he climbed into the car, looking at Wonshik closely. He had not had a chance to speak to Wonshik recently, too busy with his work and Wonshik taking more evenings off over the past couple of weeks than he usually did. Wonshik may be capable of handling his work mostly on his own, but even more so than with Chang, Hakyeon liked to check up on him. 

“I hear you have a new boyfriend,” he said slowly, thinking of the way Wonshik’s eyes had darted away from the girl serving him tea, unusual enough that it stuck in Hakyeon’s mind.

Wonshik blinked at him, their bodies close, Wonshik still holding the door open. “I’m not— what — how on earth do you know about that?” 

Hakyeon smiled. “I have my sources.” 

Wonshik let out the sigh of the long suffering. “Jaehwan tattled on me, didn’t he,” he said, although he sounded more fond than anything else.

“Only because I asked him where you were one night,” Hakyeon said. It had not been important, so he had let Wonshik have his night off uninterrupted, but the few details he’d managed to get out of Jaehwan had been vague and unhelpful: there had been something about a bar and a pretty face, before Jaehwan had muttered sullenly, _and then he ditched me to go get laid_ and Hakyeon had excused himself from the conversation. 

Wonshik sighed again and then ran a hand through the back of his hair, shoulders slumping. At least now he looked more like a sheepish teenger rather than a family thug. “I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend,” he said. “We’ve only been going out for a couple of weeks. But yeah, I’m seeing someone. It won’t interfere with my work.” 

“I know that,” Hakyeon said. He knew that Wonshik was smart enough to avoid mixing his private life with his work life. He also knew that if things became serious, they would probably need to revisit this conversation. But it was early days, and the most important thing— “Are you happy, though, so far?”

Wonshik thought for a moment, but only a moment, before he grinned, wide and bright. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m really happy.” 

Hakyeon squeezed his arm, smiling back at him. “Then that’s what matters.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a hot minute since i updated but in my defence i skipped about half of this chapter when i originally wrote it because i just dIDN'T WANT TO WRITE THESE SCENES so i had to fill those in. and funnily enough i still didn't want to write the scenes so it took forever. 
> 
> you'd be surprised at how often i just.... don't write scenes because i don't want to, and then i'm somehow shocked and dismayed when it turns out i have to write them at some point. learn from your elders, kids. don't be like me.

Wonshik adjusted his shirt sleeves before he stepped inside the front doors of the restaurant, warmth and the gentle hum of conversation washing over him. Lingering for a moment in the entryway, he automatically scanned over the interior. He hadn’t known what to expect when Hongbin suggested this place, and an internet search had thrown up nothing other than a company Facebook page. Given Hongbin’s sort of general aura, Wonshik had been expecting somewhere a bit fancy, a place with candles and wine glasses already on the table. It sort of _was_ that kind of place, but the candles were set in mismatched jars, and most people were drinking beer or soda of some kind. The atmosphere was cheerful, congenial, with the lights turned down low. It felt like a middle ground, somewhere between himself and Hongbin.

Wonshik tugged at his shirt sleeves again, fidgety but unable to help it. He wasn’t used to wearing a dress shirt without a suit jacket, and the cuffs seemed to sit oddly against his wrists. These trousers had a matching jacket, he usually wore it on the rare occasions Hakyeon took him somewhere important, but he had opted to leave it at home. He’d had no idea how formal this place was, but adding a jacket would have been far too formal for what was essentially a fourth date. This was already the most dressed up he’d been while meeting Hongbin so far. 

Hongbin was already there, waiting, sitting on a chair just inside the entrance, his posture relaxed but the start of a frown on his forehead. When he saw Wonshik he stood, giving Wonshik that small, shy smile that always bloomed when he first set eyes on Wonshik on a date. It was a pleased little thing, speaking of Hongbin’s happiness more than words could— and had to, because Hongbin was so often a little awkward in the opening moments. Wonshik didn’t know if this was something that happened with other people, or if Hongbin only went shy and unsure around him. In some ways, he hoped it was the latter. 

“Hi,” Wonshik said, ducking his head to kiss Hongbin’s cheek. “I’m late, I’m sorry. I got lost.” A lie, but at least one that didn’t make him feel guilty. He’d been called into Hakyeon’s office suddenly to explain a small anomaly with the rent intake for a business down by the docks. It had been cleared up quickly, but it had delayed him enough. 

“It’s okay,” Hongbin murmured. He stepped away, pink around the ears probably from the kiss, and motioned to the host who was pretending to not watch them. When he spoke again, his tone was that of someone used to deference from wait staff. Not rude, nor even impolite, just unaffected. “We can be seated now.” 

“Very well, sir,” said the host. He retrieved two menus from his stand and led them into the restaurant, weaving through the maze of tables. The candles flickered as they passed, the breeze of their bodies making the flames dance. The table they ended up at was tucked near the back, with a good view of the entrance to the restaurant. The candle on this table was a pale yellow, sitting in a small, clear glass dish. It almost flickered and went out as they sat. 

The host passed them their menus, said something about a waiter coming to take their drink orders in a second, and then disappeared. Wonshik looked across at Hongbin and smiled; Hongbin smiled back. He was wearing his glasses, black-rimmed, and looked a little tired. He’d had a paper due the day before but apparently hadn’t yet caught up on his sleep. 

Wonshik opened the menu and was pleased to see that it wasn’t as expensive here as he’d thought it would be. Even though he could certainly afford even an expensive restaurant at this point in his life, old habits did die hard and spending a lot of money on food had always struck him as wasteful. Hongbin flipped open the menu too and Wonshik saw his eyes scan the page, interest sparking every so often. 

“Have you been here before?” he asked. 

No,” said Hongbin, glancing up. Wonshik’s surprise must have shown on his face, because he added, “I overheard some classmates talking about it. I thought it sounded nice.” 

Wonshik let his eyes sweep over the restaurant again, over the closely-packed tables, the wait staff darting here and there. “It is nice,” he said. 

“Good,” said Hongbin. He’d gone pink across the nose as he did, but he looked pleased. “I didn’t know what kind of food you liked, so I thought— this place does pretty generic stuff. “

“I like any kind of food,” said Wonshik truthfully. Growing up with barely any would do that to a person. He read the menu again, taking in the dishes — _caramelised onion dip cobb salad buffalo mac and cheese turkey bacon swiss sandwich_ — and letting silence fall between them. Awkward silences were usually part of why he hated restaurant dates, but he’d been out enough with Hongbin by now to know that this silence wasn’t going to be a long thing, and it wasn’t particularly awkward either. It was more— peaceful. Which was a nice change for Wonshik. 

A waiter came to get their drink orders — Wonshik let Hongbin choose the wine, deferring to his no doubt superior expertise — and then a different waiter came to take their food orders. Wonshik waited until they both had full glasses of wine and a moment of peace before he asked, “What did you write your paper on, in the end?”

“It was—” Hongbin stopped, looking down at the table. It had been a source of frustration last time they’d been out together, his inability to choose something to write about, but now he looked hesitant to talk about it. “It’ll bore you,” he said, after a moment of silence. 

“It won’t,” Wonshik said, surprised. He might not understand everything but it certainly wouldn’t be boring. “I asked because I wanted to know.” 

It took a little more coaxing, but eventually Hongbin opened up, started to tell Wonshik about his paper, and from there his plans for his final term paper in his corporate law class. Wonshik had been right, he understood very little of what Hongbin was saying, but it was still nice, just to sit there and listen to Hongbin talk, so into his topic that he almost didn’t notice when the waiter brought their food. 

Restaurants, in general, made Wonshik uncomfortable because they were, usually, nice places that had codes of conduct that Wonshik had never quite gotten the habit of. He had no memories of eating out with his parents, and very few memories of even eating a meal with his parents. He never knew which fork to use when, what was acceptable to drink with what; sometimes he barely understood most of the things on the menu. He was aware, on dinner dates, that he was always just one unlucky step from showing that he had had no kind of upbringing. This place was easier, because it had kept things simple, with one set of cutlery, one dish, freeing up the part of his mind that worried about those things.

It was also easier because he kept getting distracted by Hongbin, by staring at the delicate bones of his wrist as he held his fork, the way he ate his food in small, careful bites. Hongbin ate like— like Hakyeon did. Just in that he had clearly been made to sit through etiquette classes of some sort, had a sort of restraint where Wonshik’s first instinct was always just to pick up the damn burger and shove it into his face. Wonshik still couldn’t quite work out how someone as refined, as beautiful and lovely as Hongbin, would want to date him. 

Hongbin caught him staring at one point, pausing in the middle of a sentence about copyright law as he realised that Wonshik was looking at him less with interest and more like a person transfixed. Wonshik knew he should do something about the dumb, besotted expression on his face, but he couldn’t manage it, and when Hongbin smirked at him across the table, even as he went a little pink at the ears, Wonshik figured it was probably okay. 

Later, after the dishes had been cleared away but they still had half a bottle of wine to drink, Wonshik said, “So what made you want to go into law?” 

Hongbin took a moment to fill Wonshik’s glass, then his own. “I wanted to be of help to my family,” he said. 

Wonshik smiled, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “Do they get into a lot of trouble with the law or something?” 

Hongbin laughed but it was small; his fingers played with the rim of the wine glass. The sound it must be making wasn’t audible over the noise of the restaurant. “No, they have their own business. They— I’m not in a position to take over the business, I don’t want to do that anyway, but I can help out in this way. They wouldn’t have to hire an outside firm if they have me.” 

“What kind of business?” Wonshik was intrigued. Whatever it was, it must do well, for Hongbin to be so obviously from wealth. This was no middle-class upbringing. 

“Uh.” Hongbin pulled a face, like the question was something he never quite had an answer for. “Consultancy work, mainly. People come to them with problems and they provide solutions. They own some property in the city too.” 

“Hmm.” Wonshik mulled it over, added it to what he’d heard Hongbin say in the past about his family, which was very little. He’d mentioned brothers in the past, off-hand, which probably explained why he wasn’t in a position to take over the business, if one of them was older, or else more competent in that regard. “One of your brothers will take over, I guess?” 

Hongbin looked surprised, like he’d forgotten that he’d told Wonshik he had brothers. “Yes, probably. My brothers are better suited to that. And I am the youngest, by a few years, so even if one of them ducked out, I still wouldn’t be expected to step up.” 

That made Wonshik smile, thinking of Hongbin as the youngest. He wondered what that had been like: had it been an idyllic childhood, had he been the cherished child? He imagined a handsome, youngest son would be considered quite a treasure for some families, someone to be proud of. 

“What?” Hongbin asked, his hand arrested from where he was reaching for his wine glass, looking at Wonshik in suspicion. 

“Nothing,” Wonshik said. “I was just thinking of you having siblings. I was an only child.” 

“You must have been spoiled,” Hongbin said, fingers curling around the stem of the glass. 

Wonshik snorted. This amusement was not the light amusement of before, but something darker, an irony and bitterness that he’d worked hard to rid himself most of over the years. “Not quite.” 

Hongbin frowned, looking unsure. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

Wonshik waved him off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He’d dealt with his parent issues as best as he could, and it made no sense to dwell too much on them. There could be no healing from it, that much he knew. “No, it’s fine. My family history is— well, I haven’t seen my parents for about eight years now. I ran away when I was sixteen. They weren’t very good at being parents. They weren’t very good at anything other than drinking themselves stupid, really. I had to get out, so I left.” 

“Oh.” Hongbin was silent; it was obvious he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. The silence stretched on long enough that Wonshik began to curse that he’d ever said anything in the first place. The fact was that his living situation was a complicated scenario and it meant he was going to lie whenever he could. But here, with this at least, he was able to tell the truth. But it was too much, too soon. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “It was better for me that I left.”

Hongbin cleared his throat, and reached his hand across the table and touched Wonshik’s. “My family and I don’t get along that well either.”

That, Wonshik hadn’t expected. Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t wanted it to be the case. He felt somewhat invested in Hongbin’s idyllic childhood that only existed in his mind. “But you still want to work with them?” 

Hongbin looked like he was visibly struggling with his answer. Although Wonshik’s blood family felt like nothing more than a bad period in his past, he could understand having loyalty to your family. His family now certainly wasn’t traditional, but they were real, and important to him. Jaehwan might drive him mad sometimes but that didn’t mean he was going to say those thoughts out loud to anyone. “Yes,” Hongbin said. “They’re my family.” 

“I understand that,” Wonshik said. 

Hongbin looked down at where his hand was still touching Wonshik’s. He kept his gaze there while he spoke. “My mother died when I was young, so it has just been my father and my brothers and I for a long time. Things were never great, but it’s been— hard these past few years. In some ways it was easier because I was away at college, but since I’ve been back…”

He trailed off and fell silent, but it was obvious there was more than he wanted to say. He was chewing on his bottom lip. Wonshik waited, moving the positioning of their hands so he could rub his thumb across Hongbin’s knuckles. He had always been fascinated by the lifestyles of these people who had money, the conflicts that they came up with. He’d always imagined that they’d be so different to his own, and in some ways they were; money was almost always insulation against certain types of conflicts. But after knowing Hakyeon and Jaehwan, he’d come to realise how much remained the same across socioeconomic lines. 

“They don’t like it,” Hongbin said. He lifted his eyes but they were unfocused, looking over Wonshik’s shoulder to his left. “They don’t like that I’m gay.” 

“Ah.” Wonshik had little experience with that when it came to parents, although he had somewhat more experience with it on a society level. He’d run away before he’d started fucking men, but he doubted his parents would have even realised what was up even if he’d stuck around. He’d always expected that for people on Hongbin’s level in society, there would be more indulgence, but that wasn’t always the case, he’d come to find. 

“I have a friend,” Wonshik said, slowly. “My roommate. His parents were like that, and it was hard, for him. They threw him out.” 

Hongbin shook his head. He tried to pull his hand back and Wonshik let him go, but Hongbin didn’t go far. He simply picked up his wine and quickly drained the glass. “My father would never do that, I don’t think,” he said. “He loves me, for all our differences.” 

“That’s good,” Wonshik said, and it was. He had no experience whatsoever with fatherly love. It was time for a subject change, he thought. “You were outside of the city for college?” 

“Yes,” said Hongbin. “I was in the States.” 

Wonshik was fairly sure his mouth was dropped open from that. “What? Where in the States?” 

Hongbin didn’t look any more comfortable with this subject than the previous one. “I was at Yale.” 

“Holy shit,” said Wonshik, which made Hongbin smile at least. “Holy fuck, I’m dating a Yale graduate and I throw rowdy people out of bars for a living.” 

“It’s a very important job,” said Hongbin, the smile still playing on his mouth. “I’ve been very grateful to bouncers in my time.” 

Wonshik laughed. “Yeah, I bet. Pretty face like you, wandering all alone into some nightclub? Who knows what kind of lowlifes will try to take you home.” 

“I only let the truly charming ones take me home,” Hongbin said, and caught Wonshik’s hand again whilst Wonshik laughed. 

——

By the time Hakyeon got back from meeting with the family lawyers, it was late, late enough that almost all the lights were out in the house. Only a few windows still glowed amber, various people probably still chipping at paperwork before they would head to their apartments elsewhere in the city. Hakyeon didn’t fully expect the same level of dedication to work from his men, that he demanded from himself, but it was nice to see. Especially in moments like this, where he was worn and maybe a little grouchy from talking to lawyers all evening. It was a necessary evil, he had an image to uphold, an image that was concealing a multitude of sins. He had to hire, and maintain, the best legal representation possible. So once a month he or so, he went. But he didn’t like it any more now than he had when he’d first taken over the family.

Despite the late hour, Sanghyuk was bright eyed and bushy tailed climbing the stairs beside him — or at least that was the impression Hakyeon got. He wasn’t sure if it was a consequence of Sanghyuk’s young age, or part of the training that Taekwoon had instilled in him over the years. Showing weakness, of any kind, in public was something Taekwoon would like to drill out of everyone in this company, but for a bodyguard of Hakyeon’s that went double.

As they climbed the stairs, Sanghyuk tugged off his jacket and slung it over one arm. His gun was still in his shoulder holster. “It’s somehow still surprising that it gets quiet here at night,” he said, his voice pitched low as if he didn’t want to disturb that quiet. 

Hakyeon slid his eyes across to him. “You thought it would be noisy?” 

Sanghyuk shrugged with one shoulder, his shirt pulling tight across his upper back for a moment. “I thought it would be busy all the time. The other house was _so_ quiet all the time, I thought it would be more lively here.” 

“It’s still a house,” Hakyeon said absently, stepping out onto the floor with his office. Taekwoon’s office door stood shut, and he had no way of knowing if he was actually in there. Sometimes he would come and greet Hakyeon when it was this late; maybe he was sleeping already. “People still live here.” 

“I didn’t think of it like that, before. But I like it this way. It feels…” He trailed off, and shook his head. Hakyeon didn’t know what he’d been about to say but he suspected it was embarrassing. He already had Wonshik, he didn’t need another sap. Sanghyuk focused on him, the way he was walking towards his office. “You’re not sleeping yet?” 

Hakyeon smiled. It was a good but surprisingly naive question. “No, I have things to do. But you’re dismissed for the night. I won’t keep you up any longer.” 

He saw Sanghyuk’s eyes flicker to the closed door of Taekwoon’s office for a second and then back again. When he spoke his voice was easy. “Okay. You’ll call me if you need anything?” 

Hakyeon snorted. “Goodnight, Sanghyuk,” he said, firmly, as he started towards his office. He didn’t look back but he heard Sanghyuk’s footsteps begin again on the stairs as he climbed the extra flight to the floor with their bedrooms. He wondered if Sanghyuk would sleep, or if he’d end up spending time with Jaehwan, who would certainly still be awake this late. They’d been spending more time together, seemingly randomly, odd moments when they just happened to stumble across one another. He doubted either of them had realised he’d noticed. 

He let himself into his office, switched on the lights, and waited until the door was shut and locked behind him before he let his shoulders slump, the exhaustion sweeping through him. For a few seconds before he gained control over himself, he felt decades older than he was. He had been more tired than this, he knew; he could still remember those weeks after they’d moved in here, when his position had still been weak and perilous, long days and sleepless nights until the tiredness was part of his marrow and everything hurt and still he dragged himself along. He remembered the night after Taekwoon killed his cousin. But it felt harder, now, somehow. Maybe this was what getting old felt like. 

His desk chair creaked under his weight. When he turned on his computer, the brightness of the screen made his eyes sting. The clock showed 12:36 AM. There were a pile of folders on his desk, things left for him to review. One of them had a yellow post-it pressed to the top, Wonshik’s writing scrawled across it. When he checked his emails, he had fifty new messages from the few hours he’d been gone. Silently, he closed his laptop again. 

There was another folder in his briefcase and he stooped to pull it out. This one contained a number of printed documents, clipped individually. The lawyers had printed them all out, contracts for the new buildings that he was planning on buying. If any of them had noticed something strange about the addresses, then they hadn’t said anything — he didn’t pay them to ask those kinds of questions. They were lawyers; there were certain ethically grey areas that they had to be comfortable working with. 

He spread the contracts out across the desk, took them all in. There were six in total, buildings ranging from a high rise apartment block to a bar barely holding it together. Though they were spread out, none of them too close together, and their acquisition dates varied also, they all shared one thing in common: they were all squarely in Lee territory. 

He rubbed at his eyes. The text on the paper blurred for a few moments, black smudges on white. He thought, not for the first time, of taking these to Taekwoon and asking him what he thought. Were these good choices? Were these disparate enough that the Lee family wouldn’t notice that someone was picking at their different buildings, buying out their properties? Were the shell companies that Hakyeon had set up for the task up to scratch — that was something Taekwoon was good at, Hakyeon was newer to it. 

He thought about it, the conversation. Taking all of this to Taekwoon and telling him all about the plan, of slowly chipping away the Lee family’s power and position until it all collapsed under their feet and he’d already have the biggest share of it. But Taekwoon would want to know why, why _now_ , and Hakyeon wouldn’t be able to give him an answer. 

_Am I doing the right thing_?

He blinked his stinging eyes and rubbed away the tired tears that gathered on his eyelashes. He wished, for a moment, he’d asked Sanghyuk to get him some coffee. Then he pulled the contracts towards him, intent on checking them all through one last time before he put his signature to them. If he didn’t have Taekwoon, all he had was himself. 

——

Morning. Sanghyuk was not naturally a morning person, had never been one. But that didn’t matter, with this job. He had to be able to switch on at all times, at any time, whenever needed. 

He knew this, it had been drilled into him, but knowing it didn’t make it any easier for his groggy brain to process fists flying at his face at seven in the morning. 

Taekwoon’s foot whistled past Sanghyuk’s ear as he ducked out of the way, spinning to the side just in time to bring his elbow up and block Taekwoon’s fist. The smack of their skin connecting echoed around the room, amidst the other sounds of footsteps, shuffling, sparring from other corners. Taekwoon jumped back, his footwork light and unhurried, and jabbed another fist at Sanghyuk’s rib cage. This took nothing to dodge, and Sanghyuk brought his own foot up, sweeping it around in a kick, aiming for Taekwoon’s unprotected side—

Taekwoon grabbed his foot, twisted, and shoved; Sanghyuk landed flat on his back on the practise mat, blinking for just a moment at the bright ceiling, the air knocked out of him. His eyes watered, the fluorescent lights above him swimming together. 

“Sloppy,” said Taekwoon from somewhere above, voice a barely there flutter through the harsh pant of his breathing, hard to hear over the murmurings of the others in the room around them. “Get up.” 

Sanghyuk got up, pushing through the screaming of his ribs, through his lungs still desperately trying to suck in air. He sunk back into a defensive position, waiting for Taekwoon to make his move. In the past, Taekwoon had not always waited for Sanghyuk to recover from his latest beatdown before he started the fight up again. Sanghyuk had complained just once about it not being fair, when he was fourteen, new to fighting, had only been in training for a couple of months; Taekwoon, ten years older, had given him such a cold look in response that Sanghyuk had sworn there and then that he’d never give Taekwoon another reason to look at him like that.

“Someone trying to kill you or Hakyeon isn’t going to give a fuck about letting you get your breath back,” Taekwoon had said, and Sanghyuk had never complained about anything else to do with his training. 

This time Taekwoon did give him a moment to recover, waiting until Sanghyuk had settled back into place, body loose and ready to fight. Taekwoon mimicked his posture, letting Sanghyuk choose which style he wanted to fight with this time. He’d been trained in everything Taekwoon knew, and then a couple more, Taekwoon bringing him instructors from outside the family once or twice: taekwondo, boxing, karate, hapkido, anything he could use to keep Hakyeon safe. Taekwoon had even signed him up for fencing lessons in high school, so if it ever came down to it, Sanghyuk could fight with a sword too. Sometimes he imagined a movie moment, where he ripped a rapier down from above a roaring mantle to ward off attackers. But the house didn’t have any decorative swords hanging around, and even if it did, the chances of Hakyeon being attacked near one would have been slim anyway. It was a silly thing to think of, but when he was in those damned fencing lessons, getting jabbed at, that fantasy had been his primary motivation.

There was silence for a moment, Taekwoon and Sanghyuk eyeing each other across the practise mat. The room around them seemed to hold its breath too, everyone watching in complete silence now, having abandoned their own mats and equipment. There had only been a small handful of people down here when Taekwoon and Sanghyuk had entered the training room, but every time Sanghyuk looked up, there seemed to be more and more come in to watch. 

Sanghyuk moved first. He darted forward, feinted to the left, hit out with his right fist. Taekwoon was ready, had been expecting such a move. He blocked it and tried to take advantage of Sanghyuk’s open side. Sanghyuk had been expecting that in turn, and he swerved out of the way at the last moment and used his momentum to drop into a sweeping kick that was meant to knock Taekwoon’s feet out from underneath him. 

It worked, but only because Taekwoon let it work; he rolled to the side and came up back on his feet in one smooth movement, graceful as a cat. But in the time it took him to complete the move, Sanghyuk had moved into his space, didn’t give him a chance before he started up a hard flurry of blows. 

This was not the loose fighting style of before, the adaptable one that both he and Taekwoon favoured; this was tight muscles and quick, sharp punches, Sanghyuk’s body sinking into that of a boxer, holding himself close together to make a smaller target. Some of his attacks actually landed, including one to Taekwoon’s stomach that actually made Taekwoon grunt out loud. Years ago, that sound would have broken Sanghyuk’s concentration, forgetting himself in the joy of finally, _finally_ managing to land a blow. But now he kept his focus, kept watching and waiting for more openings. 

Taekwoon did not make it easy — Taekwoon had never made it easy. Fourteen year old Sanghyuk must have been like a gnat buzzing at Taekwoon’s ear, annoying and ineffective. Over the years, Sanghyuk had become good enough to at least have an effect. But while Sanghyuk fought and watched, Taekwoon was fighting and watching back, and his blows landed with far more frequency than Sanghyuk’s. 

He let out his own grunt of pain as Taekwoon’s fist connected with his side. They were fighting without gloves, their hands taped up, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. They had never pulled their punches with each other. 

“I won’t be much good to Hakyeon if you break my ribs during training,” he said breathlessly, ducking another punch and managing to get a lucky jab to Taekwoon’s rib cage in turn.

“Your ribs should be stronger,” Taekwoon said through gritted teeth, which was exactly the kind of ridiculous thing Taekwoon always said. Sanghyuk knew Taekwoon well enough by now to usually know when he was joking or not, but with things like this he never could fully tell.

When he’d first met Taekwoon, he hadn’t been able to read him at all. He knew that was a common thing with Taekwoon, that he did it on purpose, but it felt weird to think back on it now, when he was eight years old, lined up inside the entrance to the country estate of the secondary line, about to see Hakyeon for the first time. His father had been years dead by then and his mother sick enough that she was sequestered upstairs, Sanghyuk held still in front of one of the enforcers in that area, a burly man whose hands had spanned Sanghyuk’s entire shoulders. He had met Hakyeon’s father before, but Hakyeon had never come to stay here while Sanghyuk had been alive, and Sanghyuk had — not felt much of anything, he remembers, other than worry for his mother; even at eight, he had known this was no normal illness. 

Hakyeon had greeted every single person there by name, like he’d studied up for it — and knowing Hakyeon as he did  
now, Sanghyuk suspected that he had — and Taekwoon had lurked behind him, impossibly tall, the both of them together scarier than Sanghyuk had realised they would be. They seemed otherworldy, Hakyeon especially radiating confidence, the kind that felt like a pipe dream to a gangly, lonely child. When Hakyeon stopped in front of him and asked how his mother was, Sanghyuk had mumbled out a response, and received a smack to the back of the head from the enforcer for not talking loudly enough. 

“Do not,” said Hakyeon mildly, “hit the boy.” And Sanghyuk had never been hit again in that house. 

He remembered that Hakyeon and Taekwoon had both seemed so old, so strong. He hadn’t known that they were only eighteen, a year younger than he was now, and he hadn’t known that Taekwoon’s parents had both been killed in a car accident a few months earlier. Hakyeon had brought him to the country estate to get him away from it all. All Sanghyuk had known was that when his mother died two weeks later, it was Taekwoon who had found him hiding in the attic, who took him to Hakyeon, who had tucked him into bed and then quietly made arrangements for Sanghyuk’s housing, his education, anything he could want. Sanghyuk had been lucky, he knew; most families looked after loyal servants however they could, but they rarely went as far as they had with Sanghyuk.

“Watch your left,” Taekwoon growled out, and then as Sanghyuk was adjusting, remembering to focus on both his sides at the same time, he tried for an uppercut to Sanghyuk’s jaw, right down the middle. Sanghyuk, feeling offended that Taekwoon would use such a trick, jerked out of the way, got in close, managed three hard punches to Taekwoon’s side, his arm, the protected side of his face, before Taekwoon landed a glancing blow right to the side of Sanghyuk’s head. 

Sanghyuk staggered, reeling for a moment, his mouth filled with the taste of blood, his ears ringing. The moment was enough for Taekwoon to hook an arm around his neck, twist him around so that Sanghyuk’s back was pressed to Taekwoon’s chest, and pull him in so tight, his hold so firm, that Sanghyuk could only wriggle like a dying fish. 

“Yield?” he panted. Sanghyuk, who knew better than to give up, tried to head butt him backwards. Taekwoon let out a soft laugh, breathless with exertion, and then shoved him away. “Brat,” he said, probably more fondly than he meant to.

Sanghyuk poked the new cut in his mouth with his tongue and then grinned at Taekwoon, knowing his teeth were bloody. “Next time I’ll try standing on your toes,” he said. 

“You can try,” Taekwoon said. He walked to the side of the mat and picked up his towel, scrubbing his face and hair with it before he said, “We’re done for the day. You’ve got an hour before Hakyeon needs you, go clean up.” 

Sanghyuk nodded, and with the dismissal came the return of all the unpleasant physical sensations he had been ignoring: the sweat dripping down his face, his shirt plastered sticky to his back, the burning in his lungs, and the various parts of his body that hurt. His ribs ached and the inside of his mouth stung, the cut still bleeding sluggishly. He forced himself to not limp as he walked to his own towel and draped it over his sweat-soaked hair, catching his breath for a moment before he started to head out of the training room.

The men who had been watching them fight — and there had been a lot of them, more than Sanghyuk thought was strictly necessary — slowly started to drift away now that the show was over. A few of them, the younger ones, young as Sanghyuk, looked like they had a mild case of shell-shock, their eyes wide as they whispered to each other, darting quick, nervous glances at Sanghyuk. They did not look at Taekwoon, their eyes jittering away whenever they got too close to looking. Even the older men did not approach them, simply turning back to the equipment in the large training room, busying themselves quickly. 

It still amused Sanghyuk, to see the obvious intimidation on the men’s faces when faced with Taekwoon. It was not that Sanghyuk did not understand the feeling — he, too, had been intimidated by Taekwoon in the beginning, but then he had been a child whose mother was dying, not a grown man involved with a family. But Sanghyuk had never _feared_ Taekwoon, not the way these men seemed to do. Taekwoon had been kind to a child who had needed kindness, given a lost teenage boy a purpose, taught Sanghyuk everything he knew.

He glanced back at Taekwoon before he slipped out of the door. Taekwoon still stood at the edge of mat, sipping at his water. He had been watching two men spar across the room with a crease between his eyes but he clearly felt Sanghyuk’s eyes on him because he looked towards the door, eyes snapping to Sanghyuk’s. After a moment, he smiled. It was small but it was there, and Sanghyuk could see it on his mouth; he did not need to infer it from Taekwoon’s eyes. It was approval, and Sanghyuk felt his whole body settle, going calm and serene under the weight of that approval.

Sanghyuk may have pledged his life to Hakyeon, but that pledge extended to Taekwoon too. It seemed absurd to think it could not. 

——

Jaehwan rubbed a tired hand across his face, sitting on the edge of his bed. It had been a long day yesterday, spent outside the house hitting up some of his contacts to see if they had any information on the gang Taekwoon had asked him to look into. All of them had been extremely unhelpful, and he couldn’t work out if it was because they truly knew nothing, or if they were hiding something from him. The not knowing niggled at him, made him feel more twitchy than normal. If someone was putting pressure on his information sources to not provide him that information, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get tangled up in that person. 

He had come home late, or early, as was more accurate, and lay flat on his back in his slowly-lightening bedroom, catching just enough sleep that he at least felt less like his bones were buzzing under his skin. Now he just felt plain old tired, but hungry enough that he was going to have to work up the energy from somewhere to go downstairs to the dining room to get breakfast sooner rather than later. 

“Okay,” he said to himself, almost an order. “Get the fuck up.” 

He shoved himself to his feet, wincing as his spine popped in three places. But at least now he was up and it was easy enough to leave his quiet bedroom and step out into the hallway, equally as quiet. The people who lived on this level were not usually around this time; either they were sleeping or already working. Jaehwan himself should probably have been in his office, finishing up a report for Taekwoon on everything he had decidedly not been able to find out about the gang with the stupid tattoo. It felt calm, for once, which he relished, because it was never calm in the dining room.

He smothered a yawn behind his hand as he trudged down the stairs, wondering if he could eat and just go back to bed. Knowing his luck, if he tried that, someone would have an emergency he would have to deal with. He was thinking so desperately of sleep that it was a shock to suddenly be in front of Sanghyuk, covered in sweat and climbing the stairs in the opposite direction.

Jaehwan stopped dead and blinked in complete silence at him. Sanghyuk was dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a tight, black tank top, and as Jaehwan watched, a bead of sweat trailed down the side of Sanghyuk’s neck and Jaehwan could not tear his eyes away until it had soaked into the collar. 

Then he did tear his eyes away, finally up to Sanghyuk’s face. Sanghyuk said, “Hi,” and grinned at him. His teeth were covered in blood, like he had ripped into someone’s jugular with them.

“Good lord,” Jaehwan said, taking a step back on the stairs, like some kind of old lady. “What the fuck happened to you. You have blood on your _teeth_.” 

“Oh,” Sanghyuk said, like that was surprising to him. His mouth did something weird, like he was rubbing the blood away with his tongue. “Yeah, I cut the inside of my mouth.” 

Jaehwan looked more closely at him. If there was that much blood, then it must have been a decent cut, and as he looked he realised that yes, Sanghyuk’s mouth was a little swollen, and as he stood on the stairs he was favouring his left side, standing awkwardly as if it hurt. 

“Have you been in a _fight_?” Jaehwan asked, suddenly alarmed. He felt like he should have been told if Sanghyuk had been fighting with people. 

“Oh yeah,” Sanghyuk said, far too breezily. “I got the shit kicked out of me.” 

Jaehwan was utterly baffled by how unaffected Sanghyuk seemed to be by this. People were not usually so calm in this family when they’d been beaten up — although it was also true that Sanghyuk did not seem _very_ injured. Certainly not injured enough that Jaehwan had been called in, clearly. “Who _by_?”

“Taekwoon.” Jaehwan couldn’t keep the horrified look off his face and the smile fell off Sanghyuk’s a little as he quickly added, “Oh! We were just in training. It’s nothing bad, we were sparring.” 

Jaehwan was not convinced but then he, as a general rule, avoided the training rooms and so had very little experience with what went on down there. He could fight, in a manner of speaking, but most of the people who worked for families were always going to be stronger than him; there was not much he could do about that other than make sure he could protect himself in other ways. He knew how to shoot and he had mastered using a knife with both hands equally. 

He had been staring at Sanghyuk in disbelief, and it had been long enough that Sanghyuk could have excused himself and left, but instead Sanghyuk stood there on the stairs, looking up at Jaehwan with an easy smile on his face, like he had nothing better to do. Jaehwan was — not used to people looking at him like that, like being around Jaehwan was a pleasure and not something to be gotten over with. He unnerved a lot of people, he knew. People liked him only after long exposure to him. The only person who had ever liked him right away had been Wonshik, but that didn’t count because Wonshik, at the heart of him, liked most people right away. 

“Does sparring usually end up with you bleeding?” he eventually asked. He felt like that was a bit much. 

Sanghyuk laughed and then said, way too cheerfully, “Oh, usually. It used to be worse a few years ago, nothing got broken this time.” When Jaehwan just looked alarmed, he added, “That was a joke.” 

“Of course,” Jaehwan said. “I knew that. How could I not know that was a joke when you’re currently bleeding from the inside of your mouth.” 

Sanghyuk’s face softened, his smile turning smaller, as he took a step closer on the stairs. Their faces were more level now, and Jaehwan let his eyes fall away from his face to Sanghyuk’s arms, bare in his tank top. He was so much broader than Jaehwan, his arms laced through with muscle. He was not built like the usual family thug, for all that his strength was obvious. Large as he was, his was the slim muscle of a trained fighter, the kind of body Jaehwan could still get his legs around while he was fucked through a mattress. 

He looked back to Sanghyuk’s face and found Sanghyuk was even closer now, leaning in a little. “It’s okay,” Sanghyuk said, voice too soft, too intimate to be standing on the stairs in the middle of the house, “I’ve never been—” He cut off, freezing into stillness; Jaehwan had, without quite meaning to, lifted a hand and touched his mouth with his fingers, just below where his lip was swollen. 

Jaehwan’s first instinct was to snatch his hand back and stammer out an apology, but because Jaehwan was contrary even with himself, instead he made himself half-cup Sanghyuk’s jaw and turn his face so he could inspect the damage. There was the start of a bruise on Sanghyuk’s jaw, small but already purpling. Sanghyuk was still standing still, his eyes unerringly on Jaehwan’s face, his breathing coming a little quicker; Jaehwan could feel it against his wrist. 

“Even if you don’t think it’s much,” he said, trying to not pitch his voice in that same soft, intimate tone Sanghyuk had taken, but not quite managing it, “you should still let me look you over. That’s what I’m here for, after all.” 

“Next time,” Sanghyuk murmured, barely moving his mouth, like he didn’t want to dislodge Jaehwan’s hand, “I’ll be sure to come see you first thing.” 

Jaehwan did take his hand away then, stepping to the side on the stairs as if to let Sanghyuk pass. His own breathing was not exactly steady, but he forced a smile onto his face. He heard, but did not comment on, Sanghyuk take one deep breath before he smiled back. “You should go take a shower,” Jaehwan said, motioning up the stairs. “If you’re going to be ready before you have to go out with Hakyeon.” 

Sanghyuk blinked at him. “How do you know I’m going somewhere with Hakyeon?” he asked.

Jaehwan laughed and patted him on the arm condescendingly before he brushed past down the stairs. He forced himself to walk the entire way down without once looking back at Sanghyuk, even though he could feel Sanghyuk’s eyes on him the entire time. The thrill that went through him, knowing Sanghyuk was staring after him, was nothing short of pathetic, but he kind of didn’t give a fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm updating this slightly later than normal due to some stuff that came up but it's still the weekend in a lot of the world and hopefully it's a nice monday morning surprise for everyone else. 
> 
> disclaimer i've never seen a single episode of westworld.

Jaehwan leaned against the open door to Sanghyuk’s bedroom, debating on whether to rap his knuckles against the wood, or simply stroll in. Sanghyuk was laying down on the couch he’d put in there, dark green and soft looking, facing away from the door. His laptop was perched on his chest and he was watching an episode of Masterchef, an old season. The couch was too short for him by half, his calves slung over the opposite arm in a way that looked deeply uncomfortable. 

There was no way he could have seen Jaehwan but he didn’t startle when Jaehwan said, “You shouldn’t keep your door open.” 

“I know,” Sanghyuk said, not missing a beat. “You never know who might walk in.” 

He paused the episode and pushed himself upright, twisting so he could grin over his shoulder at Jaehwan. It was the first time Jaehwan had seen him wearing something other than one of the incredibly well tailored suits that Hakyeon had presumably bought for him. Jaehwan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but in his Star Trek t-shirt and jeans with a hole fraying at the knee, Sanghyuk looked every inch the man just broaching adulthood that he was. 

“Can I help you?” Sanghyuk asked.

Jaehwan resisted the frankly too easy quip about helping Sanghyuk out of his pants and said, “Have you eaten yet?” 

“No,” said Sanghyuk. “I was going to figure something out after I finished this episode.” 

“I know a good pizza place around here,” Jaehwan said. He sounded so fake-casual he almost cringed at himself. “Wonshik is out, so I figured— you want to come with?” 

Gratifyingly, Sanghyuk didn’t even pause. “Sure,” he said, with a bright enthusiasm that held no trace of embarrassment _over_ the bright enthusiasm; was that a product of his age or a natural part of his personality, Jaehwan wondered. “Do you want to go now? Just let me grab some shoes.” 

Jaehwan had only seen him in dress shoes, shiny black leather to hide the bloodstains, like Jaehwan’s. The bright blue sneakers that Sanghyuk pulled from under his bed were even more of a surprise than the t-shirt and jeans had been. 

While Sanghyuk pulled the shoes on, Jaehwan looked around the room. It was about the same size as his own, but less obviously lived in. That made sense, Sanghyuk was new to the house — but also a new recruit, and they never got bedrooms in the main house, nevermind one on this floor. The bed was half-heartedly made, with green sheets a few shades lighter than the couch. There was a white shirt against the covers, a lone sock on the floor behind the couch. Apart from a single movie poster above the Ikea desk, there wasn’t much in the way of personalisation. 

The blue sneakers looked even weirder on. Jaehwan almost didn’t like to look at them, they were so incongruous. As they headed down the stairs to the main entrance, Sanghyuk’s steps easy beside him, he wondered what Sanghyuk thought of his outfit, hating himself for the thought even as it went through his head. He’d tried desperately to avoid looking like he’d made an effort, since this was supposed to be a casual oh-yeah-why-don’t-you-come type of thing, but he had little in the way of casual clothing that he’d be comfortable letting Sanghyuk see, never mind stepping outside of the house in. His newest pair of jeans and burgundy shirt definitely suggested a lot more thought that Sanghyuk’s outfit. Maybe Sanghyuk would think he just looked this good in his down time all the time. 

There was a slight chill in the air, the spring sunshine fading into coolness as the sun began to set. Jaehwan was glad he’d chosen this shirt, long-sleeved with some lining, although Sanghyuk in his t-shirt didn’t seem to notice the chill. The guards at the front gates waved them through, looking curiously at them both; it was rare that someone walked out of the estate instead of taking a car. The gates shut heavily behind them.

It was still a short walk from the gates to the street that the house stood a short distance back from. It was nearly empty, just a few cars driving along to their homes. Most of the houses around here belonged to the wealthy, the kinds of people who kept themselves to themselves, particularly this close to a family estate. It was not yet dark enough for the street lamps to switch on, though to the West the setting sun was turning the sky bloodred. 

“I’ve been meaning to get out of the house,” Sanghyuk said. He was craning his head to look at the houses along the street that they were passing, although none of them were as impressive as the Cha house. “I don’t know much in this area of the city, but it’s hard to find the time to explore.” 

“Hakyeon works you hard,” Jaehwan said. He reached out and touched Sanghyuk’s elbow to get him to turn the corner down an alley, withdrawing his hand afterwards reluctantly. 

“I’m grateful for it,” Sanghyuk said. “It’s interesting work. It’s a more varied life than I could get anywhere else.” 

“I don’t think most people would join the mafia for a varied life,” Jaehwan said dryly. “You could have just become a flight attendant.” 

Sanghyuk huffed out a soft laugh. “I thought about it,” he said. “I’m not petite enough to navigate the aisles.”

Jaehwan laughed at that, and redirected them again. By now they were on a narrower street, lined with lamps still dark and concrete buildings instead of houses. Sanghyuk’s legs were longer than Jaehwan’s but he seemed to know how to pace his strides so that they remained side by side. He had his hands in his pockets, not in a defensive pose but one clearly holding over from awkward teenage years. Walking side by side like this, the number of inches between them seemed more obvious that ever. 

The pizza joint was tucked in between a dry cleaners and a fancy bagel shop that closed at 4pm every day. There weren’t many people inside, a family with young kids at one table and a couple of guys waiting to pick up take out orders. It meant they had their pick of the tables and Jaehwan led them to a small table further into the restaurant proper, away from the windows and doors. It was always a compromise between safety in that regard and the ability to leave in a hurry, but he figured that they could always escape out of the kitchen if need be. 

Sanghyuk sat down, looking around approvingly, presumably at the location of the table rather than the decor of the restaurant, which was more than a few years out of date. It looked like every good pizza joint Jaehwan had ever been in: whitewashed walls, chipped counter, the man behind the cash register wearing a stained shirt with sweat on his forehead. 

The waitress, the only one, came to take their order. She was very young, the aggressive jut to her hip as she wrote on her pad screaming teenage angst. She was probably the owner’s daughter, and she kept glancing at Sanghyuk with a quick, daring curiosity that grated on Jaehwan’s nerves. Sanghyuk rattled off his order and put the menu back on the table, gave her a flash of a smile and then turned back to Jaehwan. Jaehwan felt vaguely triumphant, and then stupid, because she was probably still in high school. 

“So,” Sanghyuk said, as the waitress walked away. He had one hand resting against the table, fingers spread a little. The other was dangling, his elbow resting against the back of his chair. 

“So,” repeated Jaehwan. 

“Is this a date?” Sanghyuk asked. The question wasn’t rushed, like Jaehwan would have expected it to be. Sanghyuk sounded calm, measured, but blunt. Jaehwan appreciated that. He often spent so much time tangled up in his own thoughts that it was nice to communicate with someone who just asked what they meant. 

But that didn’t mean that Jaehwan was used to it. Most people didn’t talk like that, in his area of work. He blinked a little before he answered. “Yes. I mean, if you want it to be.” 

Sanghyuk smiled at him, an almost rakish look on his face. “Do you take all your dates to such classy establishments?” 

“What can I say?” Jaehwan said, with the lopsided smile he had on good authority worked very well. “I’m selective in where and who I wine and dine.” 

“There’s no wine on the menu,” Sanghyuk said, deadpan. 

Jaehwan snorted. “You got me there.” If he’d known that Sanghyuk would cotton onto his intentions so quickly, he would have invited him out somewhere more impressive, but what was done was done. Sanghyuk didn’t seem to mind, at least. But then, Jaehwan reflected wryly, he wasn’t actually old enough to drink. 

The pizza, when it came, was thin crust, just the right amount of greasy. It was not the kind of food that anyone could look elegant eating, but that was maybe the point, or part of the point, for Jaehwan. Sanghyuk ate his pizza by folding the slice in half and eating it that way, bites measured. He did not eat like a normal teenager. He ate like who he presumably was: trained. 

“You said you lived in the secondary house,” Jaehwan said, when the pizza was demolished and he was wiping his fingers off on his fourth napkin. “Since when?” 

“Since you guys left, I think.” Sanghyuk stretched his legs to the side, looking content now that he’d eaten. It was somewhat endearing. “Through half of middle school and most of high school.” 

“I didn’t know there were any schools in that area,” Jaehwan said. The secondary house was more isolated than the main house, and smaller beside, set out on the outskirts of even the suburbs. Hakyeon, who had grown up there, had gone to a small, select private school in the middle of the city, driven there each day by a driver. 

“I went to St John’s,” Sanghyuk said. Jaehwan raised an eyebrow; it wasn’t quite as fancy as the school Hakyeon and Taekwoon had gone to, but it was fancy enough. “Hakyeon paid for it. He was very generous.” 

“Yes,” said Jaehwan dryly. “He can be generous, can’t he?” He wondered what Sanghyuk had thought of his private school experience. Jaehwan, for his part, had detested almost every moment of it and at one point thought seriously about burning the school chapel down to get out of yet another mandatory sermon. 

He gave Sanghyuk a small smile, an eyebrow raised playfully. “You must have killed it in high school,” he said, thinking of all the repressed little rich girls in those places. “Girlfriends for days.” 

“Yes, I gathered quite the harem,” Sanghyuk said solemnly. “I kept them at the house. The hardest part was making them hide when Taekwoon came around.” 

Jaehwan laughed, loud enough that the young couple who had come in after them glanced over curiously. “There are plenty of rooms,” he said. “So many places to hide.” 

“You underestimate how many girls I had,” Sanghyuk said. He was grinning openly, apparently as taken with Jaehwan’s mirth as his own jokes. He was fucking beautiful and Jaehwan ached to have him. 

“No, I— uh.” Sanghyuk’s eyes fixed on a spot to the left of Jaehwan’s shoulder, not quite looking at him, some of the amusement dropping out of his face. “Well, girls were never quite my thing. And I’ve never— I never dated anyone before.” 

Jaehwan fought the first urge, which was to ask _what_ in a tone of great disbelief. The next urge was to let his horror show up on his face, which he knew wouldn’t go over well. It was not that Sanghyuk being — what, a virgin? Is that what he was, in every sense of the word? That was not a problem, in an abstract sense. The problem did not lie with Sanghyuk, it lay with Jaehwan. For one moment, he felt it shredding, like someone had taken the ease and newfound happiness inside him, folded it up into pieces and then tore it apart. 

_I can’t be his first_ , he thought. _I’m too fucked up to be his first_. 

“Really?” he asked, after a pause. “Even with all the—” And he motioned to Sanghyuk, as if to reference everything about him, from Sanghyuk’s impeccable bone structure to the length of his legs. . 

Jaehwan didn’t think he’d imagined the relief that passed across Sanghyuk’s face. What had he expected Jaehwan to do, laugh at him? Get up and run out screaming? Truth be told, Jaehwan did feel a little like doing the second option but he wasn’t going to _actually_ do it. 

“I’m only nineteen,” Sanghyuk said. “Most of all this, as you refer to it, is relatively new.” 

“But surely there were people who were interested,” Jaehwan said, curious in the way people were curious of disgusting medical ailments. “I very much doubt _nobody_ wanted to date you.” 

Sanghyuk looked a little uncomfortable, long fingers playing with the straw in his soda. “People were probably interested,” he said. “But I never noticed if they were. I was too busy, anyway. Taekwoon started training me from when I was thirteen.” 

“So young,” Jaehwan murmured. He wondered what Sanghyuk had been like then; probably tall for his age, and gangly, puberty just arriving. Taekwoon had probably taken all those raging hormones and used them as fodder for Sanghyuk’s skills, channelled them into something more productive. It made Jaehwan sad, in a way, the thought of Taekwoon churning out another one of himself, someone to live for the family and nothing else. To live for Hakyeon, at the expense of another important part of yourself. 

“It was good, I think,” said Sanghyuk, “to have had something to focus on. I think I would have been very unhappy in school without it. You— I don’t think people realise how taken for granted having parents can be, when you’re that age.” 

Now it was Jaehwan’s turn to be uncomfortable. “Having parents isn’t always an advantage,” he said, thinking of Wonshik and trying to not think of himself. He pushed his glass away and shoved up from the table, flashing Sanghyuk a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Shall we head back?” 

Outside it was properly dark now, the streetlamps casting pale orange glows onto the sidewalk. Sanghyuk put his hands into his pockets and this time it did seem like a defensive move. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, after a few moments of silence. “I think I made things awkward.” 

A part of Jaehwan melted at the unsure, unhappy note in his voice. “You didn’t,” he said, voice gone soft. He wanted to warn Sanghyuk, that this was like a conversation with him could be like — even Jaehwan didn’t know all the small triggers that could blow up in their faces. He wanted to warn Sanghyuk that this was what _he_ was like, but he didn’t have the words. He’d never had those words. 

“You know, Hakyeon told me about you before I moved here.” Sanghyuk nudged him with his elbow, and Jaehwan swayed into him without quite meaning to. “Well, not just you, he told me about Wonshik and some of the others who have been here a while too. But he spoke about you more than the others.” 

Jaehwan raised an eyebrow in surprise at that. He had not expected that, especially since he had not heard anything about Sanghyuk before he had turned up one day at the house and without any fanfare been moved into a bedroom down the hall. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about Hakyeon talking about him to absolute strangers, although it was Hakyeon, so probably he felt— as okay as he could be about it. 

“What did he say about me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual and interested, but there was an edge there. 

Sanghyuk shrugged; he, too, was casual when he said, “He mostly said that you were smart, very capable at your job. He mentioned once that you had gone to med school. When I asked what you did for the family, he said you worked in intel. He also said you cut off people’s dangly bits.” 

Jaehwan spluttered and came to a stop. Sanghyuk stopped too, turning back to look at him, a grin on his face. Jaehwan squinted at him, unable to get a read on him, before he said, “Did he really say that?” 

“No,” said Sanghyuk. He stepped in closer, until Jaehwan could almost feel the warmth from his body. They had been walking down an alley and they were close enough to the entrance that the lamps on the street beyond were casting a slight orange glow over Sanghyuk’s shoulders, lighting him from the back. He looked older, backlit, and impossibly taller somehow. “He said that you were in charge of interrogations. I could read between the lines.” 

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” Jaehwan murmured. Sanghyuk looked down that little bit at him. All around them was quiet, just the brief rumble of a car or two driving down the more frequented street they had just turned from. “I am very good with dangly bits.” 

Sanghyuk laughed, a shockingly bright sound. It was the sort of laugh of someone young enough to be untouched by violence or death, not something Jaehwan often heard, being who he was. Even if he had been raised by a family, Sanghyuk had all but admitted that he’d never really seen service until a few months ago. He felt, for a moment, unmeasurably sad that that laugh would disappear eventually. 

Sanghyuk smiled at him, a little too much amusement in it to be a smirk. “I imagine you’re very good with dangly bits,” he said. 

Jaehwan lifted a hand and touched Sanghyuk’s chest, right above the Starfleet Academy insignia. He didn’t know what to make of Sanghyuk, who wore a suit like he had been born for it but who also liked bright sneakers and Star Trek and ate his pizza with one hand. He did know he shouldn’t be touching him like this, he knew he should step back, but Sanghyuk put a hand against his hip, and Jaehwan just— wanted him. He wanted to know what it would be like to be kissed by him.

“Would you like to find out?” he murmured, and watched Sanghyuk swallow. When he looked up at Sanghyuk’s eyes, they were staring down at Jaehwan, wide like Jaehwan had surprised him. There was a beat of silence, neither of them moving, Jaehwan waiting to see if Sanghyuk would take the initiative so that he couldn’t be blamed for starting things, and then Sanghyuk’s eyes dropped to half mast as he leaned forward—

_There’s someone behind me_ , Jaehwan thought, base instinct rather than conscious thought, the hairs at his nape standing on end, and he was already making to turn when Sanghyuk slung an arm around his waist, yanked him to the side, and punched the man who had slipped out of the shadows behind him in the face. 

There was indistinct movement, the alleyway so dark— the man fell away, unconscious on the floor, an ungainly heap, and beyond his fallen form there were people, men, who skittered back like unnerved roaches by the sudden outburst of violence. Jaehwan’s heart thudded in his throat, the sudden rush of adrenaline cutting through the arousal, and even in the darkness he could make out both of the strange men scrambling to pull out guns from under their jackets, neat little handguns that were family standard issue. But not their family.

Sanghyuk stepped half in front of him, as if to protect Jaehwan with his body, and Jaehwan made an involuntary sort of noise as the man on their left immediately levelled his gun at Sanghyuk’s chest. The man on the right, shorter, uglier, pointed his gun sort of at Jaehwan, but with Sanghyuk blocking him, any bullet he sent out would have clipped Sanghyuk’s arm before it could hit Jaehwan. 

They were just barely too far to rush at. Not without Sanghyuk getting hurt. 

The taller one motioned past Sanghyuk with his gun to Jaehwan, without taking his eyes off Sanghyuk. The other man kept watching what he could see of Jaehwan, but his posture was wary and uncomfortable. This ambush of theirs was already not going to plan. “We’re here for him,” said the taller one.

Somehow, Jaehwan was surprised at that. It was what the paranoia was always saying, they’re coming for you, they’re coming, you’re never safe, but he was so damned used to it being the overworking of an anxious mind. He should have brought his gun, he should have made _Sanghyuk_ bring his gun— but he had thought it was safe, as safe as it could be, and he did not want to force everyone to carry weapons everywhere they went. It was bad enough that he did it. 

“Cooperate and nobody has to get hurt.”

Slowly Jaehwan reached into his pocket and pulled out the switchblade he kept there, using Sanghyuk’s body in front of him as cover. He slid it, blade out, up his shirt sleeve. 

“Who are you?” Sanghyuk asked, loudly, in a voice that sounded horrifically young. These men were all in dark suits— not particularly nice suits, belying that they were low level grunts for whoever they worked for. Sanghyuk, in his jeans and t-shirt, blue sneakers, was starkly out of place, despite the hard look on his face, the ready set of his shoulders.

“No talking from you,” said the man with the ugly nose, sharp and in an undertone. Jaehwan stared at him, trying to figure out if he had seen him before. He did not recognise him at all. This was not the first time he had been held at gunpoint, but there was something shockingly sudden about this, hitting him like whiplash. They did not seem to be here to kill him — if that was the case, they would have done that already — which meant they were here for information. That did not, unfortunately, narrow down the list of suspects. “Lee Jaehwan. Get over here.”

Sanghyuk’s response to that was to block Jaehwan even further from view, his body bumping against Jaehwan’s in a way that felt deliberate, like he was making sure Jaehwan was still there, still whole. 

There was the clean, metallic sound of a gun safety being clicked off, too loud in the narrow alleyway and making Jaehwan’s heart skip a beat. These men did not know who Sanghyuk was— they possibly thought he was a civilian, but it was clear they would make him collateral if they had to. But even if Jaehwan had not been certain of that, he would have moved anyway; the gun was pointed unerringly at Sanghyuk’s chest, and Jaehwan was not going to take that gamble. 

He stepped forward, skirting around Sanghyuk, whose hand flexed, like he was wanting to grab at Jaehwan and pull him back. He said Jaehwan’s name very softly, but Jaehwan showed no indication that he had heard him. The taller man still had his gun trained at Sanghyuk, but the ugly one had followed Jaehwan, and so it was him that Jaehwan approached, brain practically whirring audibly as he tried to think this through.

The man watched him approach warily, a concerning shake at the tip of the barrel on his gun, fingers twitchy on the trigger, and Jaehwan put his hands up, to show they were empty. He angled himself so his left side was nearest the man, hoping the man would take the bait, and he did— he let go of the gun with one hand to grab Jaehwan’s left wrist, tugging Jaehwan closer, yanking his arm down, so he could begin to restrain him. 

Jaehwan flicked the switchblade out of his right sleeve, into his waiting hand, and sliced the tip of the blade under the man’s jaw, opening up his carotid artery.

It wasn’t an instant death— Jaehwan didn’t have the right angle and leverage for a fatal sort of blow, and the man could have raised the gun and shot him. But he didn’t. The blood raged out, coating darkly over Jaehwan’s shirt, splattering on his jeans, and the gun clattered to the ground as the man fell to his knees and frantically scrambled to cover the hemorrhaging wound. 

“Fuck—” Metal glinted out of the corner of Jaehwan’s eye, the taller man swivelling to point his gun at Jaehwan on instinct, before he realized his error and made to move back, but it was too late. Jaehwan kicked the gun on the pavement away as Sanghyuk shot forward, grabbing the tall man’s wrist, pushing it down and twisting so brutally hard he had no choice but to let go of his gun. It didn't go off when it hit the ground, thankfully, but Jaehwan still flinched. The two of them were scuffling so jarringly that Jaehwan couldn’t find an opening to dart in and kick that gun away too, but it didn’t matter— the bleeding man, whitefaced, slumped over, too weak to even hold his hand over his neck anymore, let alone try to fight. 

Sanghyuk, larger, stronger, had gotten an arm around his opponent’s neck, holding him immobile tightly, and the man clawed at his hold with one hand, the other hanging loosely at his side, wrist likely broken. He was beginning to turn blue, and Jaehwan was going to voice that they should, perhaps, leave him alive as he would be useful to question, when Sanghyuk brought his other arm around the back of the man’s head, planted both hands on either side of his face, and twisted, hard. There was a disgustingly loud crack, loud enough that Jaehwan actually recoiled. The man’s eyes stared sightlessly at him, wide with fear and panic. When Sanghyuk let go, the body crumpled to the floor, where it lay in a heap at Sanghyuk’s feet. 

Sanghyuk bent down and retrieved the dropped gun, holding it with a casual familiarity. He didn’t click the safety back on as he stood almost at attention, staring at the entry to the alley, the direction the men must have come from. Jaehwan stared at the man Sanghyuk had killed, knowing intellectually that Sanghyuk had broken his neck with his bare hands, but he felt disconnected from it, unable to quite come to terms with it.

“Are you okay?” Sanghyuk asked after a brief silence, his posture relaxing when no new attackers appeared.

Jaehwan cleared his throat, mouth dry. “Yes,” he said, because he was fine, he was just having an internal meltdown over the fact that Sanghyuk was not only strong enough to break a man’s neck with his hands, he knew how to do it in the first place. What the fuck exactly had Taekwoon been teaching him, all those years of training? Jaehwan felt the urge to send him a fruit basket in thanks. 

Sanghyuk frowned and in a short few steps was in front of Jaehwan, the hand not holding the gun coming to a rest on Jaehwan’s shoulder. Jaehwan leaned into the touch, feeling deprived of something he had never known just a week or so ago. “Are you sure?” Sanghyuk asked, eyes and voice serious. “You’re covered in blood.” 

“None of it is mine,” Jaehwan said. Now that the fight was over, the shirt was clinging to his skin in an extremely unpleasant way. He needed a shower, badly, and a change of clothes, and possibly a dark room to have a panic attack in. But later, that could come later. He motioned to the blood puddle beside him, the man laying face down in it. “It’s his.”

Sanghyuk looked down, so utterly unbothered it should have been chilling. “Good,” he said, and Jaehwan too looked down and realized that at some point after collapsing, the man had died. Which wasn’t surprising, really, and had rather been the point. He wasn’t the first man Jaehwan had killed. He wondered if this was the first time Sanghyuk had killed. 

There was a low moan, the sound of clothing dragging on asphalt. The unconscious man was finally stirring. Rationally Jaehwan knew it had been two, maybe three minutes since Sanghyuk had decked him in the face, but it felt like it had been hours. 

Sanghyuk made a noise in the base of his throat and then turned them so that he was standing over the man and Jaehwan was tucked behind him. Jaehwan had never been treated like this before, like he needed protecting, and he found that he didn’t hate it, exactly. It seemed innate with Sanghyuk; a result of his training, perhaps. It was difficult to be mad about someone acting on instinct, like being mad with someone for breathing. 

Jaehwan opened his mouth to ask what he was doing when Sanghyuk stretched out his arm and shot the man in the head. Jaehwan flinched at the sudden sound, the words dying in his mouth. “Dear lord,” he said, looking from the mess of bone and blood that the man’s face had become to Sanghyuk’s hand wrapped around the gun. 

“Sorry,” said Sanghyuk. He didn’t sound sorry, but when he turned back to Jaehwan, there was something regretful lurking in his eyes. He looked at Jaehwan like he was waiting for Jaehwan to run away screaming. He turned the safety on and tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. “That wasn’t— pretty, I should have warned you—” 

Jaehwan put his fingers to Sanghyuk’s jaw, like he had done that morning not too long ago on the stairs. Just like then, Sanghyuk fell silent, looking down at Jaehwan, eyes suddenly a little uncertain. There was blood on Jaehwan’s fingers but Sanghyuk didn’t flinch away, he simply waited for whatever Jaehwan wanted to say. 

“You misunderstand me,” Jaehwan said eventually. He took his hand away and there were fingerprints of blood against Sanghyuk’s jaw, small and red. Jaehwan threw caution to the wind at the sight of that blood. “I want to climb you like a goddamn tree,” he clarified, and Sanghyuk laughed, the sound coming like it had been startled out of him.

“Not here,” he said. He waved an arm around them, the motion encompassing the bodies, all the blood. “It’s disrespectful to the dead.” 

This time it was Jaehwan’s turn to laugh, as startled as Sanghyuk’s had been. Sanghyuk gave him a small, pleased smile, and then pulled his phone out of his pocket, muttering about getting Taekwoon in to clean up. Jaehwan watched him, looking at the assured way he took control of the situation, thinking of how Sanghyuk had tried to protect him from the blood splatter when he shot the man in the head, like Jaehwan wasn’t already covered in blood. Like Jaehwan was someone worthy of protection.

Fuck, Jaehwan wanted him, even if it meant touching something that wasn’t meant for his hands to touch. But it was hard to stand here, in the aftermath of what Sanghyuk had done, and think himself too fucked up, too broken. He was, he knew that, he knew that whatever _this_ was, he couldn’t hope to hold onto it for any real length of time. But he had to know what it was like to kiss Sanghyuk, to have Sanghyuk’s hands on him. If he never found out, it would drive him crazy for real. 

——

It had been a while since Taekwoon had accompanied Hakyeon out somewhere, and there was something almost soothing about it. It felt right, to be stood behind Hakyeon, a little to the right, while Hakyeon sat at the conference table and charmed everyone into his pocket one more time. 

These meetings happened quarterly, a chance for Hakyeon to show his face at the most legitimate business under the Cha family perview. Cha Construction was how the family had originally made their money, four generations ago, back when the city was younger and less developed. Most of the city had been built by the Cha family, and as a result, it was still where the majority of their business came from. But it was a legitimate business, requiring more energy and brain-power than any of the other lines. Hakyeon would have needed years of experience and a proper business degree to actually be able to run it, and he did not have that — what he had was an economics and political science double major. Useless, for running this kind of business, although extremely helpful when it came to understanding the more subtle ways a family actually worked. 

There had been a board of directors running things even before Hakyeon took over the family, but they’d mostly been his uncle’s men and had been resistant to the change. Hakyeon had removed them all and replaced them with his own people, those capable of doing the job. They skewed younger than before, perhaps more creative in their approach, but it was working. Taekwoon had approved all of them before any of them were hired. 

“Last month’s profits continued to grow,” said the youngest director, barely thirty five. _It will be good to give him this responsibility so young_ , Taekwoon had said. _He’ll feel like he’ll need to work to earn it_. “We had a slight dip in June, but things improved.” 

“What happened in June?” Hakyeon asked, looking down at the open file in front of him, full of diagrams and charts that Taekwoon knew he probably wouldn’t understand. He’d never bothered to learn this kind of thing — it wasn’t helpful to Hakyeon if he understood construction business. 

The young director launched into an explanation, which Taekwoon mostly tuned out; something about delays to a housing development. He let his mind drift a little — it was not necessarily safe in this conference room thirty stories high, but it was safe enough that he felt comfortable relying on his instincts, rather than active thought, if something should happen. So he looked out of the floor length windows, at the darkening sky and his slowly forming reflection in the glass, standing at Hakyeon’s shoulder.

After so long letting Sanghyuk escort Hakyeon places, giving him the experience he so dearly needed, being here felt like stretching a well used muscle. This was always where he was supposed to be. And while he valued Sanghyuk, wanted to let him learn how to do the job he’d spent years training for, sometimes Taekwoon couldn’t help resenting it too, that it meant he got less time to do this, be this for Hakyeon. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against his leg. Then it continued, long enough that a couple of the others in the room started looking around in confusion. It fell silent for a second or two and then started up again. He put his hand in his pocket, drew it out — it was Sanghyuk. 

He was not worried, not immediately — concerned was probably a better word. Sanghyuk would not have called him for no reason, not when he knew that Taekwoon was out at a meeting with Hakyeon. He knew better than to do that. 

He felt eyes on him and when he looked up, Hakyeon was looking at him, although nobody else in the room was paying him any mind. It was a talent, of sorts, to be the tallest in a room and yet fade into the background when needed, a talent he doubted Sanghyuk would ever cultivate. A couple of the men in the room had probably completely forgotten he was in there.

Hakyeon raised an eyebrow at him and Taekwoon mouthed _Sanghyuk_. For a moment there was an almost imperceptible furrow in Hakyeon’s brow and then he nodded and motioned for Taekwoon to take the call. Taekwoon slipped out of the room, letting the door shut behind him with a quiet click. Sanghyuk had ended the call but as Taekwoon walked down the hallway away from the door, the buzzing started up again.

“Yes,” Taekwoon said, short and blunt, into the receiver. 

“There’s been an incident,” Sanghyuk said; he was outside, a place where the breeze was carrying his voice away from the phone. “We’ll need you to deal with it. Are you still in your meeting?” 

“Yes,” repeated Taekwoon. “What kind of incident?” 

“A Lee family incident,” Sanghyuk said. “Jaehwan and I were out and some knuckleheads attacked us.”

“You’re okay?” Taekwoon asked. “And Jaehwan?” He leaned against the wall for a second, tried to ignore the way the office lighting was threatening to give him a headache, tried to ignore the sharp rush of adrenaline that Sanghyuk’s words had given him. He knew he didn’t work well when he let emotions get the better of him. 

“We’re fine. They’re dead.” If Taekwoon listened carefully he could hear the sounds of voices on the other end, people moving around Sanghyuk. If Sanghyuk was trying to get hold of him, then Jaehwan must be on the clean up, pulling in some of the lower members to help carry the bodies away. It was a good call — if Jaehwan had called Taekwoon, he might not have answered at all. Jaehwan did not always respect what was meant by the word ‘emergency’. 

“We’re taking them into the house, you guys can figure out what you want to do with them then. We didn’t want to leave them out here too long. The neighbourhood association will complain about us, Jaehwan said.” 

There was something about the way Sanghyuk said it, something about the way he said Jaehwan’s _name_ , that made something that had been niggling at Taekwoon for the past few weeks click into place. Yes, of course — that was why, whenever he tried to find Jaehwan recently, Sanghyuk was there. It was why Jaehwan had asked him all those weird, intrusive questions about Sanghyuk, that Taekwoon had thought were just a result of Jaehwan’s paranoia raising its ugly head at a new employee joining. 

Well, he wasn’t going to say anything against it. There was no policy against dating another member — he’d be cutting off his own ever optimistic nose if he ever tried to make that a thing. 

Though there was no accounting for taste, Taekwoon supposed. Then again, no matter how much of himself Taekwoon had poured into Sanghyuk’s training, no matter how much time they’d spent together, he and Sanghyuk were still different people. Taekwoon’s eyes flickered over to the closed door of the meeting room. It was probably for the best, too.

“Yes,” he said. “Take them to the basement, the med ward. Keep them cool and Hakyeon and I will decide what to do when we get home, which should be—” Quick calculations — how quickly could they wrap this meeting up, how far they were away, how fast he could drive without putting Hakyeon in danger — “Give us half an hour.” 

“Okay,” said Sanghyuk, and then Taekwoon hung up.

Inside the meeting room, things were still in full swing, which meant a man was now talking excitedly about new marketing techniques they were developing in order to sell the office spaces that were being built on the west side of the city. Taekwoon made his way back to Hakyeon and Hakyeon leaned back in his chair, turning his head slightly so that when Taekwoon leaned down he spoke straight into Hakyeon’s ear. “We need to leave,” he said, “immediately.” 

Hakyeon exhaled and then put his hands against the table to push himself upright, his palms slapping just enough to cut through the speech of the man at the front of the room. “I apologise,” Hakyeon said, his smoothest voice, his vowels like rounded pebbles. “Something has come up that needs my urgent attention.” The faces in the room fell as one. Hakyeon truly did have them under his spell. “But from what I’ve heard so far, you do seem to have it all under control, and I’m excited to see what you manage to achieve in the next few months.” 

Despite the urgency, despite the way Taekwoon could read the tension in Hakyeon’s spine and shoulders, Hakyeon still took the time to shake the hands of everybody in the room, thanking them and encouraging them individually. Before the meeting he’d done much the same, asking personal questions of each one: how is your wife’s pregnancy coming along, did your son get into the college he wanted, did your daughter’s soccer team win that match you mentioned. This was a talent Hakyeon had always had, but carefully honed over the years. Taekwoon wondered if teenage Hakyeon had seen the writing on the wall, been preparing for this position longer than even Taekwoon had known about it. 

They were taken to the front door by a secretary in towering heels and they stepped out into the warm night air, the sky dark blue, the moon a barely visible sliver sighted between two buildings. Hakyeon picked up the pace, striding to the parking lot where Taekwoon had left the Audi.

“What’s happened?” he said. “Why did Sanghyuk call?” 

Taekwoon held open the door for him, and Hakyeon gave him a flustered look. “Get in the car,” Taekwoon said. “I’ll tell you when it’s safer.” 

Hakyeon nodded, shortly, and got in the back of the car. It felt better, to have him behind that protection. They hadn’t paid extra for bulletproof windows for nothing. Taekwoon went around the front and got in the driver’s seat. With the doors shut, the inside of the car felt smaller, the sounds muffled. 

Hakyeon leaned forward and opened his mouth. “Fasten your seat belt,” Taekwoon said, and started the engine. 

“Taekwoon,” said Hakyeon warningly, even as he did as he was told. “What _happened_?” 

“I don’t know all the details,” Taekwoon said. “You’ll have to ask them. But Jaehwan and Sanghyuk were out and some Lee members attacked them.” 

There was a sharp inhalation, then Hakyeon said “ _What_? They— they seriously attacked two Cha members? Are they okay, Sanghyuk, I mean? And Jaehwan? Oh god, tell me they’re not hurt.” 

“They’re fine,” Taekwoon said. It was hard to drive, to keep his eyes on the road, when he wanted to look in the rearview mirror and keep his eyes on Hakyeon to see how he was taking this. But it was more important, he knew, to keep watching the road. Hakyeon would be in a much worse position if he crashed. 

“And the men who attacked them?” Hakyeon’s voice dropped on the words, the anger in his voice obvious. 

“They’re dead,” Taekwoon said. 

“Good,” said Hakyeon, slightly vicious. 

Taekwoon did not mention that it would have probably been better if at least one of them had been left alive for questioning. He understood Hakyeon’s sentiment. “I’m taking you home,” Taekwoon said instead. Hakyeon tried to protest but Taekwoon talked over him. “I don’t know whether it’s part of a coordinated attack or not. The safest place for you right now is behind our walls. Then I’m going to go help Sanghyuk clean up. It sounds like it may have been messy.” 

Hakyeon didn’t look happy, and for a long few moments Taekwoon thought he was going to insist he be allowed to come. If Hakyeon ordered him to do something, Taekwoon would do it, no matter how unhappy or worried it made him. But it seemed Hakyeon knew this weakness, and used it sparingly; right now he nodded and said, “Okay. Take me home. Then bring me Jaehwan and Sanghyuk so I can talk to them.” 

“Yes,” said Taekwoon, softly. He watched Hakyeon for a few long moments at a red light, the way the fight went out of him as he sat back against the soft leather seats of the car. He looked tired, and worried, fearful for the people he cared about. Taekwoon’s heart ached for him, but he didn’t know how to make it better. He hadn’t known how to do that for a long time now. 

——

Wonshik watched as Hongbin’s bowling ball skimmed across the surface of the lane straight into the gutter, leaving all the pins standing, proud and defiant. Wonshik could tell from the set of Hongbin’s shoulders that he was scowling, arms folded across his chest. The gutter ball was his fifth in a row. Hongbin, it turned out, was pretty fucking terrible at bowling. 

Hongbin turned around and he _was_ scowling, the dark look at odds with his beautiful face. Wonshik bit back his smile, knowing that it would not go over well. At first Hongbin’s terrible performance had been funny, to Hongbin most of all, but now it was starting to wear at him. His score was pitifully small next to Wonshik’s, and Wonshik was starting to suspect that soon he’d have to start messing up on purpose just to give Hongbin a chance to catch up. 

Wonshik didn’t want to have to do that. It wasn’t that he was particularly competitive, he didn’t care if he won or not, it was just that Hongbin getting so flustered and annoyed over something inconsequential was truly amusing to watch.

Even though he said and did nothing, perhaps that amusement showed on his face, because Hongbin said, “If you’re going to laugh at me, you might as well do it.” 

“I would never laugh at you,” Wonshik said solemnly. That, at least, made Hongbin roll his eyes, definitely to cover up a smile, and he flounced back to the seats where they’d piled their jackets and left their half-finished hot dogs — half finished in Wonshik’s case. Hongbin had taken a bite and turned vaguely green and Wonshik had spent a few minutes teasing him about having such a refined palate. 

Hongbin flopped down beside him, long legs stretched out, butt barely on the chair as his shoulders rested against the back. Even in just jeans and a t-shirt, even in the hideous black and red striped bowling shoes, he still managed to look like a model in a photoshoot. A gaggle of teenage girls a couple of lanes down kept looking over and giggling together. Wonshik didn’t flatter himself thinking it was about him. 

“How am I _so_ bad at this?” Hongbin groaned. He put a hand over his eyes, as if the light carried with it the weight of his failures. “I don’t remember being this bad in high school.” 

Wonshik turned into him, placing a hand on the small of Hongbin’s back in the empty space between body and chair. He was aware of the girls watching them; he was aware that sometimes, when they were in public, Hongbin froze up at his touch, eyes darting as if afraid of who might see them. Wonshik understood that, understood that instinctive fear, even though he’d long ago stopped feeling it. But it wasn’t bravery that made him that way. It was simply that in those blurry years between running away and meeting Hakyeon, he’d simply told anyone who cared to fuck off — and now, with the might of the Cha family behind him, he had the power to make them actually fuck off.

Hongbin, whose family had reacted to him coming out by redoubling their matchmaking efforts, did not have that luxury. So Wonshik could be careful out in public with him, could let Hongbin set the pace of this thing between them. Wonshik could give him comfort like that.

“It’s okay,” Wonshik crooned, his thumb hooked into the back of Hongbin’s t-shirt. “You’re only losing by sixty points, you’ll claw them back.” 

Hongbin opened up his fingers and glared at him through the gaps. It was a potent glare, despite the obstacles. Wonshik laughed and leaned in, for a brief moment, to nuzzle against Hongbin’s temple, so quickly that it could be overlooked by bystanders. Then he stood up and winked down at Hongbin, channelling Jaehwan at his most obnoxiously charming. “Let me show you how it’s done, darling,” he said.

“I hope you drop it on your foot,” Hongbin muttered, and Wonshik laughed as he sauntered to the lane. He hadn’t been bowling much since high school himself, but it came back to him like a muscle memory, how to hold the ball, how to swing it, the timing. He hadn’t been great at it back then and he still wasn’t great at it now, but there was something about it, the precise nature of each throw, the way he knew a good or bad roll the moment it left his fingers, that reminded him of shooting. 

This shot wasn’t perfect, listing just to the right as it travelled across the slippery surface of the lane, and it took out just over half the pins. Wonshik looked at the ones that still stood for a long moment, taking them in, calculating the right angle he’d need to — then he realised he was thinking about it in terms of shooting them, his fingers twitching for the weight of the gun he’d left in his bedroom, and he sighed and turned back to Hongbin. 

Hongbin wasn’t paying attention. He had Wonshik’s leather jacket in his lap and he was patting around the pockets, a crease between his eyebrows. He caught Wonshik looking at him and said, “Your phone is vibrating. Someone’s calling you.” 

“Oh,” said Wonshik. He started back, taking the two mini steps up to the raised platform of the lane in one step. Hongbin found the phone in an inside pocket and pulled it out triumphantly. “Who is it?” Wonshik asked, in front of him now, holding out a hand for the phone.

Hongbin squinted at the screen. “Robot Dick,” he read, and gave Wonshik a lot of complete bafflement, an eyebrow raised. “Who on earth is that?” 

“My boss,” said Wonshik, taking the phone. The call rang off as he looked at it and then within seconds started vibrating again. The annoyance Wonshik had been feeling at being interrupted on his night off was joined by a prickle of concern, at Taekwoon being so insistent in contacting him. Usually, if the call rang off, Taekwoon would leave an annoyed voicemail and then get hold of someone else. 

“You put your boss in your phone as Robot Dick?” Hongbin asked, both of his eyebrows raised now. 

“No,” said Wonshik. Jaehwan must have done it when Wonshik wasn’t paying attention sometime. “I need to take this. Can you just— just wait here, I’ll be right back?” 

“No problem,” said Hongbin. “I’ll finish your turn for you.” 

That made Wonshik smile. “You touch my pins and you’ll regret it, beautiful.” 

Something in Hongbin’s eyes flickered, the easy amusement going and coming back in an instant. “Go and answer your phone,” he said. “I’ll wait patiently for you.” 

Wonshik nodded and jogged away, heading for the front door of the alley, but he hit take call after just a few steps, before the call could ring off again. “Yeah,” he said, skirting around some teenage boys yelling at an arcade game that had eaten their money. “What is it?” 

Taekwoon’s voice, as flat and emotionless as Wonshik had ever heard it. “You need to come in.” 

Already knowing he would do it but resentful all the same, Wonshik said, “It’s my night off.” 

Taekwoon’s voice went cold in a tone that Wonshik had only heard a handful of times, and only directed at him once or twice. It made him flinch, listening to Taekwoon say, “I don’t give a shit, Wonshik. Get your ass back here before I send someone to fucking collect you.” 

Wonshik’s first thought was to ask who the fuck pissed on Taekwoon’s cornflakes, except that he’d stopped having a death wish years ago and so kept the comment to himself. It wasn’t the right question to ask anyway. He may not be particularly close to Taekwoon but years of experience with him had at least attuned Wonshik to his most obvious idiosyncrasies, and a show like this, brash and forceful and loud, was almost certainly a cover for something. 

Wonshik was outside now, standing beside the front doors, the cooling night air bringing goosebumps to his arms. It was quiet out here, the car park still, the dazzle of beeps and arcade sounds inside cut off like a deafness. Even so he kept his voice so low that he was almost surprised Taekwoon even heard it. “Who’s hurt?” 

A pause, maybe Taekwoon taking a moment to be impressed that Wonshik had realised, or maybe just while he figured out his words. Wonshik had learned long ago to give Taekwoon a few moments during conversations to figure out the sentences he wanted to say, the words and their order. “No one. But it was a close thing. So you need to come in.”

“Okay,” said Wonshik. He wondered who it was — not Hakyeon, if Taekwoon could sound this calm about it, but someone important enough for this call in the first place. Then the thought _Jaehwan_ flashed through his mind and he felt a wave of nausea. “I’ll be half an hour.” 

Taekwoon hung up without another word. Wonshik pushed back into the bowling alley, made his way back to the lane where Hongbin still sat, looking towards the door as if worried about the length of time Wonshik was taking. Wonshik managed to paste an expression on his face that he hoped was normal, and flopped down into the seat. 

“Something’s come up at work,” he said. “I have to go in.” 

Hongbin pursed his lips, looking, for a moment, disturbingly close to Hakyeon. “But it’s your night off.” 

“That’s what I said,” Wonshik said, smiling despite the anxiety rolling in his stomach. “But you don’t argue with Robot Dick.”

Hongbin smiled too, although his disappointment was obvious. Wonshik felt it too, underneath all of the other emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to be here, with Hongbin, close enough to feel his warmth. He wanted to be home, to know that Jaehwan and Hakyeon and anyone else he cared about was safe. “Okay,” Hongbin said. “You’ll text me? To let me know — when you want to meet next?”

“Tonight,” Wonshik said, a promise. “I’ll text you tonight. I already know where I want to take you next.”

Hongbin reached out and put a hand on his forearm, the touch warm and solid, reassuring. After a moment of looking at Wonshik’s face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Wonshik’s, as if he didn’t care that anyone was around them who could see. Wonshik’s heart stuttered and then continued in double time. 

His heart was still racing as he collected his jacket and took his shoes to the front counter to collect his sneakers. The thing was, Wonshik had been in love before, and he knew himself well enough to know how easily, how quickly, he could fall for someone. But this felt different, scary, somehow, like plummeting headfirst into a free fall. It had never, not once, felt quite like this before.

——

Waiting for Taekwoon to get back was the worst part. The house had been barely organised chaos when Hakyeon walked in, the younger members buzzing with the tension and excitement of what had happened. None of them necessarily needed to be there, and Hakyeon suspected that some of them had come in only to see if anything else would happen. He wondered how so many of them knew already that the Lee family had attacked some of their own but he should have known by now how quickly gossip travelled in the family. 

Sanghyuk had stayed at the scene of the crime, so to speak, to clean up the loose ends, and after he’d seen Hakyeon safely into the house, Taekwoon had gone to join him. Jaehwan, it seemed, had come back with the bodies, because when Hakyeon strode into his office, Jaehwan was sitting on one of the couches, looking pale but otherwise okay, his usually styled hair damp like it had been quickly washed. He was wearing a clean, dark t-shirt, but he’d missed a streak of blood on his neck, just above the collar, in his haste. 

He stood up when Hakyeon came into the room. “Hakyeon,” he started, but Hakyeon held up a hand and for once, Jaehwan obeyed and fell silent. 

“We’ll talk about what happened when Sanghyuk gets back,” Hakyeon said. “I need to handle some things first.” He walked to his desk and picked up the landline phone, moving it closer to where he stood. It was there for business purposes but was also hooked up to the internal line in the house, which meant he’d be able to deal with the nonsense going on downstairs from this relative peace. 

After a moment, though, he couldn’t bear to hold it in any longer, and he turned around and touched Jaehwan on the shoulder. It was there, not enough that you could see it but Hakyeon could feel it, the faint tremor under his fingers. He’d been expecting it but it still made the sadness well inside him. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, softly and sincerely. 

Jaehwan leaned into the touch for a moment and then shook it off. “Go on,” he said, sitting back down, the leather creaking underneath him. “Reign over your kingdom.” 

Hakyeon did just that. In the bare minimum amount of time possible, he had dismissed the kitchen staff for the night and organised the lower level grunts on extra patrols of the area around the house and their important businesses. If nothing else, it gave them something to do, which made them feel like they were contributing. Most of the leftover men were trained enough to make themselves busy with their usual tasks. 

A semblance of calm was just descending when Taekwoon walked in, trailed by Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk looked dead on his feet, half-yawning once before he remembered to slam his mouth shut. At any other circumstance, Hakyeon would have cooed obnoxiously over how cute he looked in his casual clothing, but this wasn’t the time. “Taekwoon told me a little about what happened,” Hakyeon said, motioning for Sanghyuk to take a seat; he sat next to Jaehwan, which was interesting. Taekwoon stayed standing, but came up behind Hakyeon, a solid, reassuring presence. “You guys are really fine?” 

“Yeah,” said Jaehwan. “I guess we weren’t in any real danger, thanks to James Bond over here.” 

“I like to think of myself as Jason Bourne,” Sanghyuk said. Jaehwan rolled his eyes, but there was the edge of a smile on his face, which Hakyeon was pleased to see.

He sighed at them nonetheless. “Tell me what happened.” 

Jaehwan spoke, which didn’t surprise Hakyeon one little bit. Jaehwan was prone to talking too much, it was true, but in times like this he knew to give the details and not mess around with anything else. Often, he noticed small things that other people overlooked, or remembered in ways that nobody else did. He told Hakyeon about the three men; about the way they had been there for him; about the fight, and the quick dispatches of each man. Hakyeon glanced at Sanghyuk. He didn’t seem overly bothered by the night’s events. But then, it wasn’t the first time he’d killed. 

“Why would they be targeting you?” Hakyeon asked Jaehwan. He wouldn’t have expected the Lee family to do something like that, not when Jaehwan was relatively high profile. 

Jaehwan hesitated. Hakyeon saw him glance at Taekwoon over Hakyeon’s shoulder. “He’s been running some surveillance for me,” Taekwoon said. “There’s something I’m keeping track of.” 

“Anything I need to worry about?” Hakyeon kept his tone light, merely curious in pitch, but inside there was a stone in his stomach. Hakyeon had long allowed Taekwoon to follow his own side projects, to develop ways to help the family without needing Hakyeon’s express permission for everything. But Taekwoon usually told him about it anyway, especially if it reached this point, where he started involving other people. It was just one more things in the ever-widening gulf that sat between them. 

Taekwoon paused before he answered. “Not yet.” 

Hakyeon gave him a look, one which said _keep me informed_ , and Taekwoon nodded, mouth pulled tight. Then something struck Hakyeon, something odd that he was surprised he hadn’t questioned before. “What were you two even doing out there together?” 

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk exchanged a glance, loaded with meaning that Hakyeon didn’t fully understand, though he could guess at. Sanghyuk shifted in his seat, looking like a child being reprimanded. Jaehwan said, “Getting pizza.” 

Slowly, Hakyeon said, “Together?” 

“Yes.” Jaehwan’s eyes seemed almost challenging. Hakyeon raised an eyebrow and he dropped his gaze immediately. 

“I see,” Hakyeon said. He’d known, watching Sanghyuk over the past couple of years, that he and Jaehwan would get along well. He supposed it wasn’t a huge stretch of the imagination to guess something like this might happen. “How long have you two been— getting pizza?” 

Sanghyuk pressed his lips together, obviously hiding a smile. “I didn’t realise you cared so much about your employees’ dating life.” 

“I care about you two,” Hakyeon said bluntly. He saw Jaehwan swallow; Sanghyuk’s smile flickered and then grew into something more genuine. “And I don’t particularly want to deal with your shit if this blows up in your face.” 

A shadow passed over Jaehwan’s face, but he just nodded tightly. Sanghyuk was the one who said, confidently, “It won’t.” 

Hakyeon looked at the two of them, thought about the dead bodies lying in their morgue, a side room off Jaehwan’s medical ward. There was still so much to deal with and he was tired, so tired. He looked at Taekwoon. “Was there anything else you needed to ask them?” Taekwoon shook his head after a moment of thought. Hakyeon turned back to Jaehwan and Sanghyuk. “Leave the rest of this to us and go get some rest. Neither of you are on duty tomorrow. Consider it a present for handling business so well.”

Jaehwan and Sanghyuk shuffled out again. Hakyeon wondered if they’d go to the same room or their separate ones. He said that he didn’t care, and he didn’t, but he was protective of Sanghyuk in ways that surprised him a little. It made sense, considering how long he’d known Sanghyuk, longer than anyone other than Taekwoon. He’d seen Sanghyuk grow from basically a child into someone competent and strong. But Jaehwan was loyal, and capable of true kindness even if he was capable of removing fingernails without blinking. He cared for even less people than Hakyeon, but when he did, he cared deeply. He was suitable, for Sanghyuk. 

When the door shut behind them, Hakyeon stood. His shoulders and back ached. “Did you see the bodies?” Taekwoon nodded. “Did you recognise any of them?” 

Taekwoon shook his head. “Lackeys. I think if we tried to make anything of it, the Lee family would just claim they acted on their own.”

“It’s possible they did,” Hakyeon murmured. “Sometimes the lower members can get overzealous in their defence of their family.” It really was a shame that Sanghyuk killed the last one, though. These opportunities came around so rarely. “We’ll have to send the bodies back.” 

“We can send at least one of them,” Taekwoon said. “They were relatively clean kills. The Lee’s won’t be able to retaliate. They’ll know they were in the wrong, how dangerous their position will be.” 

“When has that ever stopped the Lee family?” He sounded bitter. It wasn’t attractive. Taekwoon was looking at him, an unbearable expression of sympathy. Hakyeon turned away, stifled a yawn. “Are you going back to your room?” 

“I can do,” Taekwoon said, voice gone soft. There was blood on his shirt sleeve cuffs, from where he’d touched the bodies in the street. Hakyeon nodded, and followed Taekwoon out into the hallway. 

The offices were on the second floor, the bedrooms on the third. The house was huge but Hakyeon still chose who stayed there carefully. There were a couple of impersonal rooms for men who needed to stay overnight, but for the most part those who had bedrooms were the ones Hakyeon was sure were loyal. He liked to believe all his men were loyal, but he wasn’t so naive. His bedroom was the largest, and overlooked the gardens at the back of the house. Taekwoon’s was on the smaller side, certainly not as big as his position would have allowed him, but it was just down the hall from Hakyeon’s. Taekwoon had chosen it, and had refused to budge on the matter. 

He hadn’t decorated it much, beyond the refurbishment the place had gone through when Hakyeon and his entourage had first moved in. The old inhabitants of the house, Hakyeon’s uncle and the first line of the family, had kept the place looking like it had done fifty years ago, with dark colours and old fashioned wallpaper. They’d stripped everything out and replaced it all. Taekwoon’s room was painted dark blue with pale furnishings and pale blue sheets. Hakyeon had taken a few art classes in college and he knew all about art therapy, but he wasn’t sure if the calming effect of Taekwoon’s room was the colours or the presence of Taekwoon. 

Taekwoon waited just long enough for the door to shut after Hakyeon before he started undoing the buttons on his shirt. He had a television set up in the corner, one Hakyeon knew he never used when he was alone, and a couch in front of it, which Hakyeon knew to be comfortable. Hakyeon slid his shoes off and padded over to it, keeping his eyes away from Taekwoon, the sounds of his shirt sliding over his skin almost unbearably loud. He curled up on the couch, like one of the girls at Madam Chang’s, tucked into the corner. 

When Taekwoon sat down next to him, he’d changed his shirt for one of the oversized yet strangely thin sweaters that he seemed to favour. This one had little holes for his thumbs. It made Hakyeon smile. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taekwoon asked quietly. 

“Not really,” Hakyeon said. “There’s nothing much to talk about. I just can’t believe they’d— but I don’t want to think about it. You know? Just.” He fell silent. Taekwoon let him sort through his thoughts. “Did you know, about Jaehwan and Sanghyuk?” 

Taekwoon shrugged. “I noticed they’d been spending a lot of time together over the past few weeks, and there were some oddly pointed questions on Jaehwan’s part. I sensed interest in Sanghyuk’s side, but nothing concrete. It made sense, Jaehwan is a good looking man.” 

He said it perfunctorily. He said it the way a man would, when he understood it to be a fact but felt nothing underneath it, the way a straight man would. Hakyeon tried to not think anything of it, squashed it all back down. 

“I’m surprised he asked Sanghyuk out on his own, though,” Taekwoon continued. “I thought he might have needed permission first.” 

“Why would he need permission,” Hakyeon said with a slight snort. 

“Some of the men think you and Sanghyuk are fucking.” 

Hakyeon sat up sharply. “Wait, are you serious? Who thinks that. I’m going to have them strung up by the ankles outside the gates as an example.” 

Taekwoon smiled and touched Hakyeon’s bare ankle, unbearably gentle. Hakyeon had seen Taekwoon kill men with his fists, break faces and bones, seen those hands around the barrel of a gun, pulling the trigger over and over, yet he always seemed to touch Hakyeon so gently. “I handled it.” 

Hakyeon huffed. “Sanghyuk is a tiny precious child and I would never.” 

“Sanghyuk is taller than me, and killed two men tonight,” Taekwoon reminded him, still smiling. 

Hakyeon shivered. “Stop, don’t remind me. I know it was his choice, but did we — did we make the right decision with him?” 

Taekwoon was quiet for a long time. “I think he takes it very seriously,” he said eventually. “I think you will have his loyalty for the rest of his life, if you ask for it.” 

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Hakyeon said, quietly and truthfully. “Sometimes.” 

“I know.” 

“Can we watch some television? We still have a couple episodes of Westworld left.” 

“Sure,” Taekwoon said easily. “So long as you promise not to talk through it all.” He dodged the foot Hakyeon flailed out at him. “I have a pair of your sweatpants in my dresser, you can change into them, you’ll be more comfortable.” 

Hakyeon climbed to his feet, stretching a little, his spine popping in a beyond-satisfying way. “Why do you have a pair of my sweatpants in your dresser?” 

“I plead the fifth,” Taekwoon said, straight-faced. 

There were small touches of personality here and there in the room, an actual alarm clock on the side table, a collection of dvds by the television, a small bookshelf filled with Taekwoon’s collection of crime thriller and science fiction novels. There were a small collection of photographs on the dresser, propped up in the kinds of wooden frames that you bought in packs of three. There were a couple of Taekwoon’s parents, who had passed away when they were both teenagers; one of his sister, who lived in the south of the country, released from anything to do with the Cha family; one of his nephew, whom Taekwoon had never met; a miscellaneous collection of photographs that included members of the family, including Hakyeon; and then a photo, tucked at the back, of a pretty girl with large brown eyes, smiling. 

Hakyeon plucked the photograph out and looked at it carefully. “You kept a photo of Nayoung?” he asked.

Taekwoon, queuing up the episodes of Westworld, craned his neck to look at him. “What? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” 

Hakyeon turned the photo over in his hands. There was nothing to suggest when it was taken. She looked like she had when Hakyeon had last seen her, over five years ago, so it was probably old. He remembered wishing, late at night when it was harder to keep the embarrassing, despairing thoughts away, that he could be pretty in the same way that she was, with her feminine jaw and soft body. Maybe then, the thoughts had whispered, Taekwoon would want him the way he wanted Nayoung. 

“You loved her a lot,” he said. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, separate from him. 

“Yeah,” said Taekwoon. “I did.” 

It had been masochistic to say it, so Hakyeon only had himself to blame for how much the response had hurt him. Of course, he’d known that anyway. It had been obvious, the first time he saw Taekwoon with Nayoung, then only another girlfriend. Hakyeon had been used to girlfriends. But when Taekwoon had asked Nayoung to marry him, that had been so much harder to handle. 

“She lives in America now,” Taekwoon said, casually, like it meant nothing to him. “She got married a few months ago. Her husband runs a hedge fund.” 

She had made Taekwoon happy, in ways that Hakyeon hadn’t seen him be since his parents had died, and hadn’t seen since. Taekwoon had been forced to break off the engagement when Hakyeon staged his coup after the old Cha family head died, and he had gone from wayward nephew to powerful leader literally overnight. And Hakyeon had been grateful, and vindictively pleased about the break-up, because Taekwoon had chosen him over her, had chosen to stay loyal to Hakyeon rather than continue to chase some piece of skirt. 

But Taekwoon had loved her. It didn’t get any easier to acknowledge, no matter how many years passed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon said. Hakyeon looked at him. The television was paused, the bright light of it in the dim room washing out Taekwoon’s features. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. She’s happy, and so am I. Put the photo down and come and watch television with me.” 

“You’re not allowed to boss me around,” Hakyeon said. He tried hard to inject playful humour in his voice but he knew it hadn’t worked. But he put down the photograph and changed into the sweatpants and curled up on the couch next to Taekwoon again, his head in Taekwoon’s lap. After a moment or two, Taekwoon’s hand began to card through his hair. Hakyeon was asleep before the end of the first episode.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i used the word nipple at least twice in this chapter and each time my soul attempted to leave my body and so you're all wELCOME I GUESS.

Jaehwan wasn’t surprised to find himself lying awake at 4am, staring blankly at the window to the side of his bed. He’d felt it, an itch under his skin, as soon as he’d said goodnight to Sanghyuk and watched him walk away to his own bedroom further down the hall until Jaehwan shut his bedroom door, blocking out all sound, everything but the contents of this dark room. Nothing but silence remained, nothing but the minimal view of the gardens out back, nothing to stop that rising animal inside him, threatening to overpower it all. 

Jaehwan had done what he could to keep the anxiety and paranoia at bay but if this was a beast that could be tamed, he hadn’t found a way of doing it yet. He’d been living with it for as long as he could remember, wrestling with it all his waking and sleeping hours, struggling to keep his body his own and not give it over to the instincts that threatened to drown him. 

All through brushing his teeth, changing for bed, climbing under the sheets, he’d felt it building. Now he lay here with his thoughts a constant screech inside his skull, moving too quickly for him to pick out a single one to think about it. His bones jittered, his blood hot inside his veins. He wanted to smash his skull against his bedroom wall until there was nothing but darkness, until it all went as quiet inside as it was outside. 

It was always bad after a skirmish. He was not like Wonshik, who stayed on the high of the fight for hours afterwards and then slept like a baby. There was a reason Jaehwan worked in small rooms, enclosed spaces, with trapped men. He did not relishing fighting, didn’t like risking his life. And this was worse because he had not gone looking for the fight. No, this one had found him; these men, who knew his name, had been watching him, had come here to find him, had known where to find him tonight. 

That was a recurring realization that bounced around the tangle of other thoughts inside his head — they had known where to find him and now the beast had him, the paranoia and the shudder inside of him was all he knew, because nothing felt safe, not now. Not this house, not even this bedroom. He stared at the window with wide-open eyes waiting for the shadows to breeze across it, his jaw clenched so hard that he could feel his teeth grinding together. His hand was wrapped around a knife under his spare pillow, his knuckles aching with how tightly he held it. 

His bedroom was a refuge, for him, a safe zone. He’d made it so, with locks on the door and windows, weapons hidden in easy to reach places. He never invited anyone in that he didn’t trust, and kept it locked when he wasn’t in it to stop anyone else wandering in. The house itself was somewhere Jaehwan felt he could relax, as much as was possible for him; his bedroom was doubly so.

Now it all felt tainted. 

God, he fucking hated this. He hated knowing that nothing was going to help, no amount of locks, no matter how many times he swept this room, this house, for bugs. No, he was looking down the barrel of days of this, maybe even a week, before something inside him reset and he could go back to his base level, of not needing to hold the knife because he already knew it was there, of only checking over his shoulder every so often and not every step. But it would take time to get there and he already felt exhausted of it. 

There was the soft sound of footsteps outside the room, someone walked down the hallway past his door. _It’s just someone going to the bathroom_ , he told himself, but couldn’t stop the sharp spike of adrenaline, like a shock of electricity that made him sit up, the blankets pooling in his lap as he held the knife in his hand, staring at the door. 

_This is it they’ve found me they know where I am they knew where to look who told them how did they know how do they know how do I make them forget they’ve found me they’ll find me again they’ve come for me they’re going—_

The footsteps went past and then went quiet again but Jaehwan’s head still felt like fingernails on a chalkboard and sitting here, trying to hold himself still when the moonlight was streaming in through his bare windows was too much to ask. He liked it, normally, having no curtains, no blinds, nothing to impede his view of the gardens, nothing to hide intruders from him. But now it was an added layer of agony, waiting for a shadow to cross those panes of light, someone coming to get him. 

It took a few long moments before he could unclench enough to move. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his bare feet on the floorboards, cold in the night. It was a nice feeling. He focused on that as he dressed, a t-shirt from his college days worn soft in the laundry and a pair of jeans, not caring how they looked so long as they weren’t an added level of foreign when even his skin felt buzzy and not completely his own. 

The hallway outside his bedroom was empty, although there was light coming under the bathroom door near the stairs. Jaehwan had chosen his room especially for the ensuite bathroom it came with, but now he was glad of this hallway bathroom, glad that it proved him right in the end — it had merely been someone walking to the bathroom. His limbs didn’t loosen any but he was able to walk past and take the stairs down the ground floor, and from there to the second flight of stairs to the basement. 

It was cold down in the basement, and he thought briefly of the sweater that lay over his couch. But there could be no going back up the stairs to his bedroom; his joints locked up at the thought. Besides, the coldness was like a slap to the face, the floorboards turning his feet to ice, bringing him back to a clean alertness that he felt he needed. He could never sleep during these times, when the paranoia reared its ugly head, but being tired just made it worse. Jaehwan knew exactly how long the human body could go without sleep before it began to break down, and he had no urge to repeat the experience. 

He let himself into his office, switched on the overhead light, and closed and locked the door behind him. The small space made it easier to breathe; there were less places for unpleasant things to hide in here. The lighting burned away most of the shadows to nothing but a sliver, directly overhead. There was a small lamp in here, on his desk, its lighting soft and relaxing. But he needed the brightness, right now. He needed to see everything as it was. 

Another person, a normal person, perhaps, would be able to sit at the desk immediately, start work, but he couldn’t. The paranoia was screaming at him to check the room and he gave into the urge, feeling a sense of relief sweep over him as he did so. He hated himself for it but it was so much easier to scan the room, checking the plugs and light fittings for bugs, taking the frame of his laptop apart to make sure nobody had interfered with it. He was disconnected down here, and the concrete foundations of the basement meant nothing could transmit, but it was possible to simply store data and pick it up later. 

There was nothing. The room was as clean as it had been when he’d left it, not twelve hours earlier. But he’d known that. Just like he knew that giving in this time to the need to search wouldn’t make it easier next time; no, next time, there’d be an extra step, another place to check before the monster loosened its claws from around his chest and let him breathe a little easier. 

He had small piles of paperwork to go through, printed off elsewhere in the house. Expense sheets, surveillance reports, the daily reports from the lower guys that he had to check before they could be stored for the future. He folded down into his desk chair at last, his knees up against the arm, found a pen, and pulled the nearest stack of paper towards him. 

It wasn’t easy to keep his attention on the work, but the room was small enough, with so few distractions, that the anxiety ebbed and let _him_ return, just a little. It was easier to think, which he almost didn’t want; behind the fear was always the knowledge of how ridiculous, how unnecessary, it all was. And he didn’t want those thoughts. So he kept his mind on the paperwork, on the horrible sentence structure and spelling mistakes of these young men who had never graduated high school, who had joined this family for a chance at glory, and might never progress from guard duty over property that Cha Holdings had invested in. 

With his laptop shut and his phone left on his bedside table, he had no way to tell what time it was. Time was meaningless in this tiny room. It was a space that existed outside of everything real, so it was the perfect place for Jaehwan to be. It was unlikely they’d find him here, tucked underground, cut off from the grid. 

He didn’t even know who _they_ were. That had always been the hardest part.

The knock on the door an indeterminable amount of time later shocked him almost out of his skin; he jumped and banged his knee on the underside of his desk. His first thought was fear, abstract but gripping, but then the knock came again and a voice, recognisably Taekwoon’s, said, “Jaehwan? Are you in there?” 

For a few moments Jaehwan struggled against the urge to simply remain sitting and let Taekwoon leave again — some small voice in his mind whispered that he had no way of knowing that it was actually Taekwoon, or that he was alone. In the end he was able to force himself to his feet, moving his body despite that overwhelming desire to do nothing. His footsteps towards the door were jerky, his hands shaking. 

He unlocked the door and opened it. It was Taekwoon standing outside, and he was alone, his tablet in his hands. He was frowning but when he saw Jaehwan his face smoothed out, entirely purposeful, so that no emotion, none of his thoughts showed. Jaehwan was grateful for it, even at the same time that he hated Taekwoon had so quickly _seen_ him. 

“We need to talk,” Taekwoon said smoothly. “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” Jaehwan said. His voice croaked, his throat dry. “Could you switch that off?” He motioned to the tablet and Taekwoon glanced down at it and then nodded slowly. He turned it off, letting Jaehwan see him do it, and then stepped into the room. Jaehwan closed the door and walked back to his desk and sat behind him; Taekwoon, after a moment, locked the door. 

Jaehwan was instantly grateful. Taekwoon was as safe as anyone could be, as safe as Hakyeon or Wonshik, so being locked in was not a problem. But the click of that lock was a security blanket right now.

“What?” Jaehwan asked, as Taekwoon simply continued to stare at him even as he placed the tablet on the corner of the desk. “What did you want to talk about?”

Instead of answering the question, Taekwoon said, “Did you sleep at all?” 

“A little,” Jaehwan said, with a vague wave of his hand in the air. He wished he could fit another chair in here, so Taekwoon would stop hovering. 

“You look like hell,” Taekwoon said bluntly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Jaehwan almost laughed out loud at Taekwoon suddenly volunteering to be an agony aunt. Taekwoon, who couldn’t say five sentences in a row without looking like he needed to go recharge his batteries somewhere. But maybe saying the words out loud would be a relief, and besides, he could ask Taekwoon about something that had been concerning him.

“Those men, last night,” he said eventually, choosing his words carefully at a time when words were difficult to find in his war-zone head. “They knew my name, they knew where I was going to be.” 

Taekwoon nodded. He saw instantly what Jaehwan was asking about, without Jaehwan having to put it into words. “We found their phones,” he said. “I managed to get into one of them, it just had a simple passcode on it, and it wasn’t hard to break it. They were texting each other, it looks like. They’d been there a while.” 

“What were they there for? How did they know where to find me?” 

Taekwoon’s voice was so soft, so unbearably gentle. Jaehwan hated him a little for it. “Because this is where you live, Jaehwan. They wanted to scare you off so they were simply waiting around to see if they could catch you. If you’d driven out in a car, they would have followed you there and threatened you there. One of them spotted you leaving the house with Sanghyuk and coordinated the whole thing.”

“And nobody— nobody warned them, told them where I’d be?”

One of Taekwoon’s eyebrows rose, because he got what Jaehwan was insinuating. And Jaehwan knew it was ridiculous, more than Taekwoon even did, because Sanghyuk had not known Jaehwan would invite him out, and he hadn’t used his phone the entire time he’d been out with Jaehwan. Even when he went to the bathroom, he’d left the phone on the table. But he barely knew Sanghyuk, and he trusted Taekwoon, and he needed Taekwoon to say the words to make it feel better.

“No,” Taekwoon said firmly. “Nobody told them in advance. Jaehwan, you know how carefully I— the only people I let close enough to Hakyeon, I trust with more than my own life. Nobody with any ties to the Lee family is ever going to be allowed to be at his side. Nobody who would hurt you is allowed either. You have nothing to worry about there.” 

Jaehwan nodded. He’d known that but hearing it out loud really did put it to rest, some wriggling part of his brain going still and calm at the words. He shuffled his papers, to give his hands, still shaking, something to do, and then cleared his throat. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about?”

“Stop following the mayor,” Taekwoon said. Jaehwan sat silently, waiting for an explanation, not sure if he’d get one. “They know we’re onto them, which means we’re not going to get anything more valuable from simple surveillance anymore. I need to try other tactics, if I can. But you’ve already given me more than enough to be going on with.” 

Jaehwan nodded slowly. It was a relief, honestly. He would have continued if Taekwoon had asked him to, but after last night, surveillance duty was likely to simply cause more meltdowns. “What do you think the mayor is up to?” he asked. Teaming up with the Lee family was not a good sign for any of them.

Taekwoon looked at him, his eyes weary. He’d been a part of this world a lot longer than Jaehwan had. He had done things, Jaehwan knew, that even Jaehwan, with his mind full of torture and blood and paranoia, did not think himself capable of. 

“He’s trying to seize power,” Taekwoon said. “What else is anyone in this city trying to do?”

——

Sanghyuk lay all the elements of his suit on the bed: the black jacket with the shawl lapel, the facings in silk; the stiff white dress shirt; the black trousers, tailored to his leg length; his cufflinks shiny against his bedspread. All of it Hakyeon had ordered for him, his outfit for the more formal events he’d be expected to go to. Perhaps in deference to Sanghyuk’s age, Hakyeon had not ordered a bow tie but instead a slim black tie, in the same silk as the facings on his jacket. 

He ran his eyes over them all, picturing each piece going onto his body. Dressing the part was as much of a skill as learning how to fight or shoot a gun had been. Suits were not easy, fancy ones even harder. It had been Hakyeon who showed him how to dress, taking him to the tailors and getting him measured for everything so that it fit perfectly. Then he’d had to do it again two months later, because Sanghyuk kept growing. 

He started dressing, taking as much time as he could with it whilst being aware of the ticking clock. They were going to a party tonight, and the excitement of such an event still had not quite worn off for Sanghyuk. It was still almost thrilling to be given a front row seat to the truly wealthy, even if he was not actually part of them. Although, last he’d looked at his bank account, he felt like he could be one of them. 

All that money, he thought, and nothing to spend it on. 

He fastened up his tie, fingers careful with the delicate silk. When he’d first put on a tie, the day he entered high school, it had felt like it was choking him. He hadn’t liked the feeling of being restricted. He’d been the only boy there who had known how to tie it himself. He had been the only boy there who did not have a mother to do it for him. 

He smoothed down the front of his jacket, and, taking a breath, stood in front of the floor length mirror that had come with the room. Like always, it was akin to looking into a funhouse mirror. There he was, recognisable, yet not quite himself. The suit snug on his body like a glove, his hair dark and slicked back, cheekbones somehow sharper than normal. It was him, bodyguard him, which was not the him he was used to seeing in the mirror.

The first time he’d worn a suit, it had been for his mother’s funeral. The next time he’d been sixteen and attending a function. The first time he’d worn one of the suits Hakyeon had bought him, he’d been disappointed to find that he didn’t look any different to sixteen year old him, like a child playing dress up with his father’s clothes. The suit had fit perfectly, but the look hadn’t been correct. It had taken some experimenting, to make his face fit the clothes. 

He wondered if this version was the one that Jaehwan wanted to _climb like a goddamn tree_. Except he’d said that to the other version of Sanghyuk, the part that was both more true and yet as true as this version was. He wondered what Jaehwan would say if he saw Sanghyuk in this tuxedo. What it might take to get Jaehwan to blush. 

He stepped away from the mirror to where his shoes were waiting against his bedroom door. He told himself that this was not the time to be thinking about Jaehwan, when he was about to go out with Hakyeon, but the truth was, recently there hadn’t been much time when he wasn’t thinking about Jaehwan. 

——

Hakyeon had left Taekwoon at home tonight, almost purely out of pity. Taekwoon had many skills that were valuable in their line of work — an analytical mind, a focused dedication to protection, the ability to kill without it weighing on his mind — but he was not good at parties. He, unlike Hakyeon, had not suffered through childhood lessons on manners and elocution, on how to compose and hold himself. While Taekwoon learned hand to hand combat, Hakyeon learned which forks to use at dinner. 

A soft tinkle of laughter broke out next to him, and he turned to see a young woman, her hair done in a careful twisted updo, leaning against the man next to her, laughing at a joke from the crowd of men around her. There was an air of indulgence, like the men were simply allowing her to be there, something pretty as they discussed business. A common scene at parties like this, but one that soured the taste of wine in Hakyeon’s mouth all the same. 

Hakyeon rarely let himself think about his aunt, her life whittling away in the country estate, a dog and her child to keep her company. It had been part of seizing control of the family that he had not particularly enjoyed, sending her there. But here, in the ballroom of the police chief’s mansion, it was hard not to think of her, because this was the world she had been trained for, born into, just like he had been, although their roles were different. Hers was a world of empty conversation on the arm of a wealthy man, of a marriage orchestrated by fathers in order to win the best match. Hakyeon wondered, often, if he’d have been expected to marry someone like that, if his parents had been alive at this point. 

Maybe it was just as well they were dead. 

The ballroom was long and narrower than Hakyeon would have liked; the sound seemed to be amplified, and any sudden attempts at escaping the room could so easily become a stampede. He’d caught sight of the eldest Lee son earlier, a handsome man around Hakyeon’s age, and he was trying to avoid him, picking his way through the crowd carefully. He did not like to think of it as running so much as attempting to not make a scene in a place such as this. The Lees did not hold themselves in check like they always should.

Sanghyuk, in Taekwoon’s place, stood close to his side, tall and strikingly handsome in his dark suit. Hakyeon had expected him to be distracted. It was his first time at a party like this, and it was a particularly crowded one. There was a curiosity in Sanghyuk that they’d at one time feared would turn into flightiness, but tonight, other than looking around himself every so often, Sanghyuk did not seem bothered by the sights in the slightest. More than one admiring glance had been thrown his way, looks he either ignored or completely missed. Perhaps such an obvious bodyguard was a potential problem, but Sanghyuk could wear intimidation like a second skin when he wanted to. 

Hakyeon plucked a glass of wine from a nearby table and held it like he was going to drink, but didn’t take a sip. He could have passed it to Sanghyuk to try, to make sure it wasn’t tampered with in any way — it was unlikely it would be, since then every glass would have to be tampered with, since he’d picked it at random. But it was more habit at this point, to avoid eating or drinking out in public like this. Besides, he liked to use Sanghyuk as a taster only when necessary. He did not wish harm to come to him. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, scanning the crowd for the person he had come here looking for. 

Sanghyuk made a soft noise in the base of his throat, noncommittal. His attention fixed for a moment on a small group standing near them, two ladies chatting as the men watched on, interjecting every so often. There was a tension under the surface of their words; Hakyeon’s guess was old love rivals, who were now expected to pretend to be friends. 

“These people sound a bit like Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk said. Hakyeon raised an eyebrow, both at his words and at the mention of Jaehwan, who had been a bit of an elephant in the room tonight. Hakyeon was not sure how to ask about it without seeming like he was gossiping, which of course, he was. “Their words are sometimes weapons,” Sanghyuk added in clarification. 

“Oh,” said Hakyeon. That was true, on both counts. Here, words were the only weapons one could have. The fighting was done with quick wit and sharp minds, a world of business but more than that, of surface respectability. Hakyeon had no doubt that when people looked at him at parties here, they saw the blood on his hands, saw the muck and quagmire that lay underneath Cha Family Holdings. But it was the surface that counted, and everyone was much too polite to turn over the rock and expose him.

But Jaehwan — Hakyeon thought his words were weapons only in the sense that a good defense was a good offense. Still, it was surprising that Sanghyuk even knew Jaehwan well enough to recognise this much; he had not known Jaehwan all that long. 

He was going to say something else, something like, _You should be careful with Jaehwan_ , not knowing if he meant Sanghyuk to keep close watch on his heart or whether he meant it in the sense that Jaehwan was a ticking bomb that might be not be defusable. But at that moment, an older woman stepped out of a small group at the other end of the hallway, exposed for long enough that Hakyeon could get an eye on her. 

“Come with me,” he said, and stepped forward decisively. He kept his awareness of the woman in his mind as he navigated the people in the room, not taking a direct path to keep his destination from being known, feeling Sanghyuk shadowing him. The woman, dressed traditionally in teal and gold and blue silks, drifted to a drinks table and then back out into the open, looking around herself as if searching for a familiar face. 

Hakyeon stopped in front of her, an arrested moment full of surprise. Some of the surprise was genuine, because he’d expected Sanghyuk to run up the back of him and he didn’t. “Mrs. Shim,” he said, voice pitched low, pleasure measured just so. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Mr. Cha,” said Mrs. Shim, smiling up at him, cheeks dimpling. “How lovely to see you. It has been too long.” 

“It has, indeed,” said Hakyeon, smiling down at her, his most pleasing smile, the one he’d practised for hours in the mirror as a teenager, the one which had kept all the teachers in high school wrapped around his finger. “You look as beautiful as ever.” 

She laughed, a noise of amusement and disbelief. “You are a horrible flirt, Mr. Cha,” she said, but she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and said, “Walk with me to the drinks table? I appear to have lost my husband. Perhaps you will be able to spot him.” 

Hakyeon let his smile turn slightly wry. “My height must be good for something,” he said, and she laughed again. He walked with her slowly, making a show of looking for her husband. He knew exactly where he was, and had done before she’d even asked. Her husband, one of the few councilmen that Hakyeon had not yet managed to snag and put into his pocket, was standing by the french doors at the other end of the ballroom, smoking and having a lively discussion with a couple of the lesser businessmen who somehow managed to eke out a good living in this city. 

The target, however, was not Mr. Shim, with his balding head and small glasses. The target was his wife, whose family had known Hakyeon’s mother’s family and who, according to his sources, had married her husband in purely a love match. Hakyeon was counting on that to make a difference. 

Hakyeon poured her a glass of wine at the drinks table, taking the time to do it himself before he handed it to her. Sanghyuk hung back and Mrs. Shim looked at him, her eyes sweeping up and down his body, the look in her eyes belonging to a woman much younger than she was. “Where on earth did you find this one,” she said. 

“Sanghyuk?” Hakyeon threw a glance over his shoulder at Sanghyuk as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Rattling around the countryside. I thought there might be merit in a bodyguard I could hide behind fully.” 

He saw the brief smile on Sanghyuk’s face before he schooled it back into a semblance of polite boredom. The look didn’t suit him, truth be told. Sanghyuk was not meant for such blankness. 

“And is he a replacement for Taekwoon?” Mrs. Shim asked, frowning. Hakyeon’s hand stuttered as he moved to pick up a wine glass for himself, but he recovered smoothly. “I do hope not, Taekwoon is so very pleasing.” 

“Not at all,” said Hakyeon breezily. “Taekwoon is simply busy. Sanghyuk is my backup. He is pleasing also, you don’t think so?” 

Mrs. Shim sipped her wine and didn’t say anything; Hakyeon took that as a yes. 

“Tell me,” he said. “Is your daughter well? I heard that she had moved to England with her husband.” 

Mrs. Shim perked up, her free hand leaping to her chest where she pressed her fingers to the base of her throat. “Oh, yes, she is doing wonderfully, they love it there. I was so worried, you know, it is so far from home…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. 

“She must miss you very much,” Hakyeon said, touching her arm. “I know— my own mother—” He stopped, and made a show of swallowing, seeing the sympathy flare in her eyes. “Well, let’s just say that I can understand the pain of absent family members.” 

He could see her melt — but then she’d been inclined to like and trust him, which he’d been counting on. This was, after all, everything his childhood training had been meant for: the ability to get people on his side without tipping them off to the manipulation. Hakyeon was particularly good at it. He always had been, without even trying. They’d practically drilled it into him, his older uncles with their dour, angry faces: even the son of a fourth son was expected to hold certain values and traditions, even if he would never amount to anything. Hakyeon had learned it all, absorbed every lesson he could, and then unleashed it on them, their own tools against them. They had never expected the underdog. 

He pushed his shoulders back, seeming to throw off his sorrow. “I am glad to hear that she is doing well,” he said.

“Yes, wonderfully,” said Mrs. Shim. “Marriage suits her well. Have you not thought of marrying, Mr. Cha? There are many mothers in this room would jump at the chance to introduce their daughter to you.” 

Hakyeon pasted a polite smile onto his face; he felt Sanghyuk twitch next to him. Hakyeon resisted the urge to step on his foot. “There’s plenty of time for that,” he said. “Now that Chayoung is married, I’m afraid no one worthy seems available.” 

She laughed, which he’d wanted. She slid her hand back into the crook of his arm and said, “Have you located my husband yet?” 

“He is over by the french doors,” Hakyeon said, pointing in that direction. “I shall walk with you.” 

At the doors, the businessmen had dispersed, although Shim still stood there, smoking a cigarette and expelling the smoke into the cool night air. He turned as they neared and when he saw his wife, something lit up in his eyes, a smile coming to his face as though he could not help it. “My dear,” he said, “I quite lost you.” 

“Mr. Cha here found me,” said Mrs. Shim, squeezing her fingers around Hakyeon’s arm and then letting go to flit over to her husband’s side. 

“Mr. Shim,” said Hakyeon, inclining his head in his direction

“Mr. Cha,” said Shim, a friendly smile on his face. He had spoken to Hakyeon a few times at parties like this, but only surface conversation. He had never seemed particularly wary of Hakyeon, which meant either his wife had already tipped the scales in Hakyeon’s favour, or what he’d heard of Hakyeon, he liked. “Are you enjoying the party?” 

Hakyeon smiled and said, “The party has been enjoyable only in the company of your wife. I am sorry that I must leave her with you. Although—” He stepped forward, dropped his voice. “I did also hope to speak with you, Mr. Shim.” 

“With me?” Shim raised an eyebrow but lowered his voice also; his wife leaned in with interest. “Whatever for?” 

“I am looking into a new arm of my business,” Hakyeon said. “A technology outreach which would benefit my current ventures. Obviously I would not wish to say too much here, but I understand that you have some expertise in that area and I hoped that I would be able to speak with you about it.” 

His wife touched Shim’s arm, making an urging motion. He looked at her and then back at Hakyeon, nodding slowly. “Yes, of course. I would be happy to share anything that may help. If you call my office on Monday, I would be happy to set up a meeting.” 

Hakyeon smiled, his pleasure at a plan falling into place making the smile genuine. “That would be wonderful.” He inclined his head again before holding out his hand. “Until then?”

Shim shook his hand, his grip firm. “Until then.” 

Hakyeon murmured his goodbyes, lingering a moment on Mrs. Shim, and then turned and swept away, stride long and easy, heading for the far wall so that he could edge his way towards the door without being seen to obviously leave. It was a longer process that he would have liked, and he was waylaid a number of times, but eventually he was outside of the front doors, shoes crunching on the gravel of the driveway as Sanghyuk moved to retrieve their car from the valet their hosts had hired for the evening. 

He tipped his face up to the sky, but the lights streaming from the windows behind him prevented him from seeing the stars that he knew must be up there. He let out one long breath, his mind already racing to Monday and the subsequent meeting, all that could be said and done, his plans ever-changing. But one thing was certain: he was one step closer to holding the city council in the palm of his hand, and one step closer to losing Taekwoon. 

——

The apartment that Wonshik and Jaehwan rented was close to an area of town popular with young professionals, so there were plenty of bars and restaurants open late into the night. Wonshik had liked it for that, liked the way the area always seemed so alive even after the sun went down. Jaehwan had said he liked it because all the noise and frantic energy would hide anything unsavoury happening in the apartment. 

After all the hustle and bustle, inside the apartment seemed almost too quiet. When Wonshik shut the door after himself and Hongbin, all of the outside sound cut off and they were left in silence. Hongbin kicked his shoes into a pile by the door and said, picking up the thread of a conversation they’d left off as they climbed up to the apartment door, “I’m not going to apologise for hating _Die Hard_ , Wonshik.” 

“You realise this will be the thing that breaks us,” said Wonshik, as he slipped his own shoes off and walked into the kitchen after Hongbin, turning on the light as he went. He tried for a bit of Jaehwan in his voice, that overly dramatic tone he did so well sometimes. “Two lovers, both alike in dignity, yadda yadda, torn apart because one of them has shitty taste in movies.” 

Hongbin gave him a truly withering look and set about digging everything he needed for making coffee out of Wonshik’s cupboards. Over the past few weeks they had been spending more and more time here, Wonshik had been slowly adding to the supplies. It had taken only one instance of Hongbin complaining about there being a coffee percolator but no coffee or creamer or _mugs, Wonshik, you’re actually a heathen_ before Wonshik went out and bought all of those things, and a selection of flavoured syrups, and tea, just in case. 

“I do not have bad taste in movies,” Hongbin said, spooning out the coffee grinds into the filter. “I actually have very good taste in movies.” 

“Movies you saw at an art theatre don’t count,” Wonshik said, getting their mugs down from an upper cabinet. Most of the mugs were just plain blue and boring, a set of six he’d found in the store. The ones he pulled down, he’d bought especially for himself and Hongbin. His had a picture of a bulldog on it, Hongbin’s said FUCK OFF in flowery script. Hongbin had loved it the moment he saw it. 

Hongbin scoffed, but Wonshik could see the pinkness across his cheeks. Wonshik thought, very fondly, that Hongbin probably had only ever seen movies in art theatres. Maybe he liked those weird French movies where everyone talked about the meaning of life and smoked cigarettes and nothing actually happened. 

“It’s called refinement,” Hongbin said, turning the coffee machine on with a haughty motion. “I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand.” 

Wonshik crowded in close, boxing Hongbin in with both hands pressed to the edge of the counter. “I don’t know,” he murmured against the skin where Hongbin’s shoulder met his neck, exposed by the curved collar of his t-shirt. “I think I can appreciate the finer things in life.” 

Hongbin leaned back against him. “You’re such a flirt,” he said, even as he tipped his head to the side in silent invitation. 

“Mm.” Wonshik pressed a light kiss to Hongbin’s neck and then propped his chin on his shoulder to watch the coffee drip slowly into the glass carafe underneath. “I’m sorry,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “That you didn’t enjoy the movie.” 

Hongbin gusted out a breath that was mostly laughter. “You don’t need to apologise,” he said. “You didn’t know.” 

But Wonshik felt like maybe he should. He felt like he should have known that a movie with more explosions than plot line, and with more high speed car chases than logic allowed for, wouldn’t appeal to Hongbin. They were, he suspected, completely incompatible in that way. Hongbin, with his art history and philosophy degree, would always tend towards films that were trying to say something meaningful. And that was fine, it was just that Wonshik tended to look at movies as an escape from the every day, and so he’d rather watch giant robots punch out giant aliens. 

“Next time you can choose,” he said. “Whatever you want. We can go to the tiny theatre at the art college and I won’t complain a little bit about it.” 

Hongbin snorted. “I’ll believe than when it happens.” He reached out and danced his fingers across the bottles of syrups Wonshik had bought: vanilla, hazelnut, white chocolate, cherry as a joke. “What do you want?” 

“Hazelnut.” Wonshik stepped back and let Hongbin make the coffees. He would make his own, but it seemed like Hongbin liked the rhythm and routine of doing it himself, and the couple of times Wonshik had tried to help, it had felt awkward, their conversation stuttering as they both tried to handle a task that only one person needed to do. So now he just let Hongbin get on with it. 

The kitchen of the apartment was not a big room, and with the two of them in there it seemed a little cramped. Their landlord, an old man who did not know who Wonshik or Jaehwan really were, had painted it an off-cream colour clearly in an attempt at making the space seem larger than it was, but then had left a yellow light fixture up. For a while, Wonshik had hummed _Yellow Submarine_ under his breath every time he cooked in here. Then he’d replaced it with a blue fixture and it was a lot nicer in there, although the countertops were still old and chipped, and one or two of the appliances had to be kept on the side table since there wasn’t enough bench space for them. 

Hongbin passed him the bulldog mug and then picked his own up, holding it between his hands and looking down into it like the liquid held all the answers to his questions. There was something far away in his eyes for a moment. Wonshik wanted to lean across the space and kiss him and ask him what he was thinking about. Instead, he sipped at his coffee and then cursed loudly as it burned his lip. 

Hongbin burst into laughter. He said, “You idiot.” It was so fond that Wonshik’s heart skipped a beat. Hongbin patted his shoulder and then padded out of the kitchen back down the hallway and into the living room. In only his socks, his footsteps were remarkably light; he made next to no sound. It was surprising in someone of Hongbin’s size, and Wonshik could only put it down to natural elegance.

In the living room Hongbin folded himself down onto the floor, his legs crossed under the coffee table. He put his coffee mug down onto the dark wood surface with a wince. He did not like that Wonshik did not own coasters. It was one thing Wonshik had not bought, and probably wouldn’t, because he thought it would be nice for Hongbin to give up some of that refinement he was so proud of.

Wonshik sat down on the couch, resting his coffee against the arm. The curtains were still open and the coloured lights from outside turned the patch of laminate flooring underneath the window a mottled pattern of red and blue. It was late enough that neither of them should be drinking coffee, late enough that soon Hongbin would unfold himself from the floor and say goodbye and wander out into the night to go back home. Wonshik would linger here for an hour or so and then he would make his way back through the darkened streets to the house, which would be either quiet or in utter chaos. It only seemed to swing between one or the other nowadays. 

He didn’t want to go back to that, not tonight. He did not want Hongbin to leave, to go to bed alone and wake up the same way. He knew that they’d said to take it slow, but it had been long _enough_ , surely? 

He spoke before he quite meant to. “Do you want—” Wonshik hesitated, trying to find the right words for the question. 

“Do I want?” Hongbin looked up at him across the rim of his coffee mug. He’d drunk half of it whilst Wonshik was lost in thought, and hadn’t seemed inclined to break the silence any.

“Do you want to spend the night?” Wonshik asked. “Here,” he added, like that wasn’t obvious. 

Hongbin frowned a little, clearly confused by the question. The moment he realised what Wonshik was asking was obvious; his chin tilted up slightly and his expression cleared into careful blankness. “Are you asking if I want to sleep on your couch?” 

“No,” said Wonshik. “I am asking if you would like to come to bed with me.” 

Hongbin clearly hadn’t been expecting such a forthright answer. He often seemed surprised when Wonshik was upfront with these questions, like he was not at all used to being asked if he could be kissed. “Oh,” he said, and looked down at his coffee mug. He did not have nearly enough hair to hide the pink blush across his nose. 

Wonshik swallowed down a sudden burst of nerves. He did not, usually, get nervous asking someone to bed. When it came to things like that, he’d decided long ago to not give a fuck. The worst someone could do would be say no. But that was sort of the problem. If Hongbin said no, then Wonshik was afraid it would hurt. 

Hongbin raised his head and gave Wonshik a playful smile that didn’t quite work. “Have we gone on enough dates to make up the down payment on the first time?” he asked. “Are we in the black for the second time?”

“That’s not it,” Wonshik said quietly. He did not want to be drawn into making this a game, or letting Hongbin deflect from the conversation. “I’m asking because I want to take you to bed. If you also want to, we can. And if you don’t want to, then that’s okay. But I wanted to ask.” 

Hongbin was silent for a few moments. He seemed like he was mulling the question over in his mind. The lack of an immediate answer made Wonshik even more nervous. He shifted, and moved his mug from the arm of the couch to the coffee table so that it was not in quite such a precarious position, and Hongbin watched the movement, his eyes on Wonshik’s hands, gaze a little unfocused. When Wonshik sat back, Hongbin looked up at him, wet his lips with his tongue, and then said, “Yes.” 

Wonshik felt his heart skip a beat, like the judder of a car engine when it couldn’t shift into gear. “Yes?” 

Hongbin was flushed pink again, prettily. “Yes, I want to sleep with you.” He took a deep breath, wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, let go of it again. He said, “But—” And then stopped, looking back down at the table, shoulders tense. 

“But?” Wonshik repeated. “Hongbin, please, if you don’t want to tonight, if you don’t want to tomorrow night, then just say so. I’m not—” He was struggling with the words too, which was not uncommon for him. But he wanted to say this right. “We can’t do anything until we both know what it is that the other wants.” 

“You want to sleep with me,” Hongbin said. He scrubbed a hand across his face for a moment. “And I want to sleep with you. But Wonshik, the way things are, in my life, with my family, you have to realise that I’ve never slept with anyone that I had— feelings for.” 

Wonshik let out a soft noise without quite meaning to. It shouldn’t have shocked him that Hongbin had feelings for him, they’d been dating for a couple of months now and Hongbin did not seem to be the type to stick with someone if he did not care. And yet it was surprising to hear it aloud. It made Wonshik feel happier than it perhaps should have. 

“You have feelings for me?” he asked.

Hongbin rolled his eyes, the gesture more fond than anything. “Yes, Wonshik,” he said, his exasperation apparently cutting through his embarrassment for a moment. “I have feelings for you. I like you, a lot.”

Wonshik beamed at him, which just made Hongbin look even more fond and even more exasperated. Wonshik couldn’t help it. He felt, for a few moments, like a teenager, drunk on the high of a returned crush. Of course, he’d never experienced anything like that as an actual teenager, but he imagined that this was what it felt like. 

“It is just,” Hongbin added, “that it has always been anonymous for me. I don’t know, Wonshik. It’s easier when you know they’re never going to see your face again. Even just talking about it with you like that feels— embarrassing.” 

Wonshik nodded slowly. He understood, in his own way. Hongbin had, over the course of their relationship, showed that he had very little experience with anything intimate, and it had been surprising, sometimes, the way he shied away from kisses or touches when their first time together had been intense, Hongbin practically shameless. But it was different, Wonshik knew from his own experience, to fuck someone you picked up in a bar and to fuck someone who knew enough about you to hurt you.

There was a vulnerability in the act. And Hongbin had not shown himself, thus far, to be all too comfortable with vulnerability. 

Wonshik stood up and walked around the coffee table until he was looming over Hongbin. Hongbin looked up at him, chewing on his bottom lip. Wonshik held his hand out and said, softly, “Come on. I’ll show you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation and then Hongbin took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Wonshik threaded their fingers together and began walking to his bedroom, leaving the coffee mugs behind. Hongbin trailed after him, his hand warm against Wonshik’s. Wonshik squeezed it, and felt Hongbin squeeze back.

Wonshik’s bedroom in this apartment was about half the size of the one he had back at the house, with just a single window to the side of the bed. It was tidier than his actual bedroom too, although that was only because he did not spend that much time here. There were no clothes lying on the furniture, the bed was made up, and there weren’t half-drunk glasses of water on any side tables. There weren’t even any side tables. There was just the bed in the middle of the room, a wardrobe that had barely any clothes in it, and a laundry basket that held only a pair of socks. 

He pulled Hongbin inside and then shut the door behind them. The click of the latch echoed in a way that he did not like. Hongbin was looking at the bed, and when Wonshik reached out for him, he turned and stepped up close to Wonshik’s body, pressing chest to chest. Their mouths, suddenly, were very close together. Wonshik’s breath caught. 

Hongbin’s mouth quirked; for a moment, he looked utterly in control. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” he asked, and the next second, Wonshik was doing just that, catching Hongbin’s lips in a kiss that was probably sweeter than Hongbin was expecting. Hongbin’s mouth was soft, giving slightly under Wonshik’s. He pulled back and watched Hongbin’s eyelids flutter, and then leaned back in to kiss him again before he could open them.

They stayed like that for a long few minutes, kissing without any rush to it. Wonshik broke off only to kiss the corner of Hongbin’s mouth, which made Hongbin smile, and then across his jaw down to his neck. Everything felt languid, as Hongbin tilted his head to give him room to press gentle close-mouthed kisses down the length of Hongbin’s throat. 

Hongbin went limp against him, all of the tension from earlier bleeding out of him with every kiss. He murmured Wonshik’s name, and then again, the sound of it making heat pool in Wonshik’s lower stomach. He wanted to take his time with this, keep Hongbin relaxed and warm against him. 

Wonshik kissed Hongbin’s mouth again and then gently began nudging them back towards the bed. At the last moment he turned them around so he was the one who sat down on the bed, and Hongbin was standing over him. Hongbin blinked down at him, looking surprised that they were no longer kissing in any way. Wonshik scooted backwards on the bed and then tugged Hongbin by the hands until Hongbin clambered onto it too. It took a few bemused seconds for Hongbin to realise what Wonshik wanted, but then he was in Wonshik’s lap, his knees on either side of Wonshik’s thighs. 

Wonshik smiled at him and brushed a piece of hair from Hongbin’s forehead, who huffed out a laugh. He leaned down until their lips were just touching. “You’re ridiculous,” he said. Wonshik nodded in easy agreement, and put his hands against Hongbin’s hips. He pulled Hongbin down so he could feel that Wonshik was almost fully hard, his erection pressed against the front of his jeans. Hongbin let out a soft, breathless _ah_ , and Wonshik took advantage of his open mouth to kiss him with more heat than anything so far. 

They kissed until Hongbin was squirming against him, his own erection pressing against Wonshik’s stomach. And still Wonshik kept kissing him, chasing Hongbin’s mouth whenever Hongbin had to break off to catch his breath, panting into the space between them. He slid his hands under Hongbin’s shirt so that he could feel the warm, bare skin there. He felt greedy, as if he didn’t want to let Hongbin get away from him, as if kissing him like this was satisfying a craving that Wonshik had been ignoring for years.

Eventually, though, Hongbin pulled away fully, only to flop onto his back next to Wonshik, laughing breathlessly. The sound of it made Wonshik smile fit to break his face. He shifted onto his elbow so he could look down at Hongbin, his hand brushing gently up and down the skin of Hongbin’s side where his shirt had risen up. 

He was one of the most beautiful things that Wonshik had ever seen. Sometimes the force of it was overwhelming, like standing on a beach and watching the sunset, the way there were no words for how it made you feel inside, the ache in your chest as you took it in. Hongbin’s mouth was swollen, lips red as his laughter subsided and he gave Wonshik a smile that was so affectionate Wonshik thought he could die from it. What had he done in a previous life, he wondered, to be rewarded by having someone like this in his bed now.

Hongbin reached up and touched his cheek. For a moment it seemed he was about to say something. Then he just pulled Wonshik back down. Wonshik half-covered him with his body, knowing that tomorrow their lips would be chapped and dry and not caring in the slightest, just wanting to taste Hongbin more and more. 

But he had to ask, before it went too much further. 

“What do you want?” Wonshik asked, voice so involuntarily deep that he was surprised the words were comprehensible. “How do you want it?”

Hongbin shuddered, his hips shifting on the bed. It was astounding to Wonshik that they were both still fully dressed. There was silence, Hongbin visibly trying to gather his thoughts together. Wonshik waited him out. When Hongbin did speak, his voice was a rasp. “I want you inside me,” he said. He plucked at the hand that was still stroking his side and ran his thumb across Wonshik’s fingers, across the tattoos there: the upside down cross, the evil eye, the ancient Norse rune for joy. “I want _these_ inside me.” 

It took Wonshik a long moment to speak after that; all words had fled from his brain. After a struggle he managed, “Okay,” and then he tugged his shirt off because it was the only thing he could think of to do. Hongbin immediately dropped his hand in favour of running his fingers across Wonshik’s chest, across the tattoos there. Wonshik shivered, and covered Hongbin’s hand with his own. 

“I like these,” Hongbin said huskily, eyes wicked even as he blushed a little, and Wonshik chuckled. He pushed Hongbin’s shirt up and helped him take it off too. The flush took over his pale skin down to his upper chest, smooth and blank, in sharp contrast to Wonshik’s decorated body. Wonshik kissed the hollow of his throat reverently. Hongbin sighed, a barely there noise, and relaxed into the bed. 

Wonshik stretched over the edge of the bed to the set of drawers there. A small lube container sat hidden in the upper drawer, and a box of condoms that he’d bought not too long ago, once he’d started thinking that whatever he and Hongbin were doing might actually end up being something important. He’d wanted to be prepared. Somehow he’d figured Hongbin would appreciate that. 

He pulled out a condom and dropped it onto the bed next to the lube. Hongbin watched and then started undoing the buttons on his jeans. Wonshik moved to help him, sliding the material over Hongbin’s slim hips as Hongbin lifted off the bed to help. He was wearing dark grey boxer briefs, a darker patch where precome had soaked into the material. Wonshik touched him, his fingers gentle, and Hongbin hissed through his teeth. 

He scrabbled at Wonshik’s jeans, and gently Wonshik moved his hands away so he could undo them himself. He kicked them off and then Hongbin touched his cock too, like Wonshik had done to his. “Fuck,” he muttered, and Hongbin laughed.

Hongbin slid a finger under the elastic of Wonshik’s briefs and said, “I want to see, take these off.” 

Wonshik smiled, tucking his thumbs into the elastic and then pausing, teasing a little. “You’ve seen it before,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Hongbin said. “Why do you think I want to see again?”

Wonshik felt himself go red. He was not usually affected by dirty talk but there was just something about it being Hongbin, something about that cultured voice saying it, that made Wonshik feel embarrassed. He couldn’t meet Hongbin’s eyes for a moment or two as he pulled his underwear off and dropped them over the side of the bed. 

“Wonshik,” said Hongbin. Wonshik’s eyes snapped to his; Hongbin was watching him with hooded eyes, mouth slightly open. “Help me with these.” 

Wonshik did so, until Hongbin was stretched naked on the bed. On Wonshik’s bed, even if it wasn’t his actual bed. Wonshik stared at him, unable to take his eyes off him. Under the scrutiny, Hongbin went pink all the way to his stomach. 

Without looking away, Wonshik felt around him until he found the lube. Now Hongbin watched, his eyes intense, as Wonshik squeezed some into his palm and then warmed the lube between his fingers. Wonshik had known that Hongbin had a thing for the tattoos — Wonshik knew that he gave off certain vibes that, accurate or not, could be appealing to a certain demographic. But it was something else entirely to see that in action, the way Hongbin tracked every moment, watching as Wonshik reached down between his legs. His gaze only broke off when Wonshik slid one finger into him, Hongbin’s head tipping back as he moaned.

“This okay?” Wonshik murmured, kissing the edge of Hongbin’s mouth. Hongbin moved his head, almost a nod, and turned his face so that their lips met, bottom lips catching against each other. 

“Yes,” he said, more breathless than not. “Yes, you can— you can do more.” 

Wonshik hummed, pushing a second finger inside Hongbin. Hongbin’s knees spread a little, his hips moving on the bedsheets as he shifted to let Wonshik press his fingers in further. Wonshik moved them slowly, in and out and in and out, savouring every one of Hongbin’s harsh exhales, every one of his stuttering inhales. He kissed Hongbin’s shoulder before trailing his mouth down to brush his lips across Hongbin’s nipple. 

“ _Oh_ ,” gasped Hongbin, like the thought of this happening had never occurred to him. He pushed his hips down against Wonshik’s hand and Wonshik let his teeth graze Hongbin’s nipple this time. “Wonshik, you can— one more, it’s okay, I want—”

But that wasn’t what Wonshik wanted. He didn’t want to rush. He wanted Hongbin, yes, but he didn’t want it too soon, he didn’t just want Hongbin to be ready and that was all. This was part of it too, his fingers moving inside Hongbin, hooking slightly just to hear the strangled noise Hongbin made. He’d never liked rushing this part. He had done, when he was younger, but he’d learned better.

When he finally added a third finger, Hongbin said, “Won _shik_ ,” his voice breaking halfway through. His hands pulled at the bedsheets, the material stretched taut across the mattress. His eyes were shut tight, his cock twitching against his lower stomach with each twist of Wonshik’s fingers inside him.

“I thought you wanted this,” Wonshik said, brushing their cheeks together, speaking softly against Hongbin’s ear. His voice was a rough, gravelly thing, and the sound of it made Hongbin moan. “I thought you wanted my fingers inside you, darling, opening you up for me, isn’t that what you said, Hongbin, baby—”

Hongbin sobbed and pressed his face into Wonshik’s neck, spine arching. Wonshik held his breath, wondering if— but then Hongbin fell limp against the bed, whispering, “Please, I’m ready, I can’t— I need you to—” 

“Shh, shh,” said Wonshik. He pulled his fingers out — Hongbin sobbed at that too — and touched Hongbin’s side. “It’s okay. Catch your breath, it’s okay.” 

Hongbin drew in one shuddering breath, his chest heaving. After a few moments he opened his eyes and looked at Wonshik with fever-bright eyes, pupils blown wide. Wonshik kissed him, because he couldn’t help himself. “Is it always like this?” Hongbin asked against his mouth.

“Like what?” 

Hongbin shook his head. “I didn’t know it could feel like this, that’s all,” he whispered. “It feels like too much.” 

“Bad too much?” Wonshik asked.

“No,” Hongbin said. He pulled Wonshik further over him, until Wonshik was kneeling between Hongbin’s spread knees. “Fuck no.” 

Wonshik wiped his fingers against his thigh and picked up the condom. Hongbin took it from him, tearing it open and pulling it out with a look of forced concentration on his face. He wasn’t quite able to look at Wonshik’s face as he rolled the condom down Wonshik’s cock; Wonshik moaned at the sensation of Hongbin’s fingers against him, hips jerking into the touch without conscious thought.

Hongbin lay back on the bed, one hand splayed beside his head, the other touching Wonshik’s hip. Wonshik squeezed more lube out onto his fingers, slicking them down his cock in as efficient a manner as he could, and then moved up, so now he was between Hongbin’s thighs, spread wide. Hongbin’s hand spasmed against his hip, looking, for a moment, surprised. Then his face relaxed, body melting into the bed.

“Is this okay?” Wonshik murmured, pausing for a moment. “Do you want it— another way?” He wanted it this way, wanting to see Hongbin. But he’d do it differently if Hongbin wanted that.

Hongbin shook his head, hair mussed against the pillow. “No,” he said, very softly, barely audible. “No, like this.” 

There was a beat, a moment of silence. Then Wonshik pushed into Hongbin, slowly, taking his time with it. Hongbin let out a quiet moan, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth open. Wonshik felt like his own breath was being punched out of him as how beautiful Hongbin looked, like something out of a fairy tale, from beyond the realm of this world. It made Wonshik think of the illustrations in the books he’d seen as a kid in the library, full colour drawings of fairies and elves with details picked out in gold. He’d spent hours looking at those, avoiding being at home for as long as possible. Right now, he could spend hours looking at Hongbin.

But he couldn’t stop and stare, so he moved a little, a gentle back and forth with his hips. Hongbin was tight, despite the prepping, and it felt so fucking good that Wonshik had to take a moment, had to lean down and kiss Hongbin hard. Hongbin whimpered into his mouth, a helpless sound as Wonshik rolled his hips again, fucking his cock further into him.

Wonshik let the rhythm build as it would, trying to keep it as controlled as he could, although his composure seemed to be hanging by a thread. Maybe later, they could do this again; Wonshik would be able to last longer once he’d already come. He suspected this would not be some great feat of stamina. He didn’t think he had it in him. 

He gripped Hongbin’s thighs and moved them impossibly closer together, bent over Hongbin’s body. He kept kissing Hongbin’s mouth, although before long Hongbin wasn’t kissing back, just panting open-mouthed into Wonshik’s mouth. Wonshik licked into him, more filthy than he normally would have been. 

“Wonshik,” Hongbin gasped. Both of his hands clutched hard at Wonshik’s shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough for the nails to leave half-crescent marks. “Wonshik, please—”

“You’re beautiful,” Wonshik said, his voice hoarse like it was being torn from him. Hongbin moaned and arched up, and for a moment his cock dragged along the hard muscle of Wonshik’s abs. Hongbin made a desperate noise, almost pure animal. “You’re so beautiful, Hongbin, darling, tell me what you want, tell me where to touch you.”

Hongbin buried his face against Wonshik’s shoulder, where Wonshik couldn’t kiss him, his breathing ragged. He tried to say something but the words were non-existent. Despite the fact that he’d asked what Hongbin wanted, Wonshik fucked him harder, not giving him a moment to recover his breath or thoughts and speak. 

Hongbin shifted on the bed, almost without conscious thought, and a second later each of Wonshik’s thrusts brought Hongbin’s cock in contact with his stomach, so that each movement had Hongbin’s cock leaving smears of precome against Wonshik’s skin. Hongbin cried out and there was something damp against Wonshik’s shoulder, maybe sweat or maybe tears.

“Come for me,” Wonshik rasped. He reached between their bodies the best he could and touched Hongbin’s cock, just a brush of his fingers against the heat there. “Let me feel you, Hongbin, please—” 

Hongbin sobbed out Wonshik’s name, his voice broken, both arms wrapped around Wonshik’s shoulders to hold him there and steady. Wonshik stroked his cock again and Hongbin came with a cry, half-buried against Wonshik’s skin. He clenched down around Wonshik’s cock, hot and impossibly tight, and Wonshik came too, fucking hard into him, a breathless moan of Hongbin’s name on his lips. 

There was silence afterwards. White spots danced in Wonshik’s vision. Hongbin did not seem inclined to let go of him for several long seconds, and when he did eventually loosen his hold, Wonshik did not want to move away. Hongbin’s come had landed mostly on Wonshik’s stomach, which gave him a low thrill of pleasure that he probably wouldn’t say out loud but he knew he would spend a lot of time trying to get it to happen again. He did not want to separate. 

“That.” Hongbin cleared his throat. He dropped his head back so that he was looking up at Wonshik, eyes clear, the colour still high on his cheeks. “Is it always like that, for you?” 

Wonshik smiled. “Not always.”

“No, I mean—” Hongbin huffed, trying to find the words. Whilst he did so, Wonshik did lift himself away — Hongbin winced and squirmed on the bed as Wonshik’s softening cock was pulled out of him — and rearranged them, him laying on his back with Hongbin curled up against his chest. Hongbin did not seem inclined to question this arrangement. He put his temple against Wonshik’s shoulder, a hand against his ribcage. Wonshik stroked his hair gently.

“Is it always that good with people you have feelings for?” Hongbin asked, voice more timid that anything Wonshik had heard from him.

“No,” said Wonshik, after a moment to think. The answer surprised him a little, but perhaps not as much as it should have done. “No, it’s never been like that with anyone.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ._. it's been a while
> 
> this is partly because ela and i are trying to do an alternating schedule when we post, and the last chapter of incarna took longer than expected (understandable because it's LONG AS FUUUUCK, how does she _do_ it), and partly just because there's a scene in this chapter that i had to rewrite like 3 or 4 times and at a certain point i couldn't stand to look at the doc so i just........... didn't look at it for 2 months.
> 
> HONESTLY I DON'T EVEN LIKE WRITING???

The knock on Jaehwan’s office door jolted him out of his paperwork trance. His pen skittered across the report he’d been drafting and left a long blue mark right through the previous paragraph. “What?” he called, trying to not sound peevish and aware that he hadn’t managed it.

The door opened slowly and Sanghyuk was standing there, practically looming. He was wearing jeans again, but with a button-down shirt, like he’d been out and come back and only changed his pants. His hair was slicked back in the way it always seemed to be after he’d been on official business. The Bodyguard Hairstyle, Jaehwan assumed. Sanghyuk stood with his hands in his back pockets, a habit Jaehwan had noticed, and his shoulders curled in almost sheepishly. “Hi,” he said. “I thought I might find you here.” 

“It is my office,” Jaehwan said. He stood, feeling slightly awkward, which he hated. He hadn’t seen Sanghyuk for the past couple of days, between his own minor meltdown and Sanghyuk being busy with Hakyeon stuff. Jaehwan had been splitting his time between this room and his bedroom, sticking to the safest places, and he could feel his base level returning, faster than he would have expected. Talking with Taekwoon had really helped. “Come in. I’d offer you a seat, but, well.” 

Sanghyuk did come in, shutting the door quietly behind him. Jaehwan didn’t understand it, really, how the room could seem so much smaller with Sanghyuk in, when people just as tall and broad as him were in there so regularly. But there it was. Everything felt closer now that Sanghyuk was in here, looking at him. 

“Are you busy?” Sanghyuk asked, motioning to the paperwork on Jaehwan’s desk. “I could come back later if you are.”

“No,” said Jaehwan. He tried to shuffle the papers into a pile but just made more of a mess. “I’m not, it’s fine. Just, you know.” He gestured vaguely, trying to encompass everything his job entailed. Words were still hard for him, still locked behind his teeth, and Sanghyuk was somehow making it worse. 

Sanghyuk came further into the room, still looking unsure of himself. That wasn’t a look Jaehwan had seen on him yet, and Jaehwan wasn’t sure if he liked it. “You do a lot of paperwork,” Sanghyuk said, touching the pile of papers.

“That’s because Hakyeon is obsessed with keeping track of everything,” Jaehwan said. “He’d have me documenting every time I sneezed if he could.” 

Sanghyuk smiled slightly, putting his hand back in his pocket. Jaehwan perched on the edge of the desk, watching him. “Hakyeon probably learned that from Taekwoon,” Sanghyuk said. 

Jaehwan snorted. “Probably.” Jaehwan had often thought that Taekwoon would have made a good detective in another life. He was observant and analytical and just quirky enough to not be entirely boring. He’d probably have thrown himself into that job as completely as he did this one. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sanghyuk said. “About what happened a couple of nights ago, when we— went out.” 

Jaehwan smiled, more so at the word choice than anything else, but couldn’t help tensing slightly at the same time. He wished the memory of the meal, loose and fun, hadn’t been tainted by the anxiety later. It was too much to ask that Sanghyuk didn’t notice the tension, either; he was too well trained for that. He frowned. 

“Later that night, after— after we spoke to Hakyeon, you went back to your bedroom. I’d— I mean I wasn’t expecting— I just wasn’t sure if—” 

Jaehwan let out a huff of air, almost a laugh, and let the tension leave him again. “It’s okay, love,” he said. “You can tell me, I don’t bite.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I’d put you off,” Sanghyuk said, his voice oddly serious after Jaehwan’s playful comment. He shifted on his feet, like he was preparing for some kind of blow. “We didn’t really get to talk much afterwards, and then I didn’t see you for the past couple of days. I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me.” 

Jaehwan blinked at him, confused for a few seconds. “What are— oh,” he said, as the penny dropped. “You mean because of the—” He raised his hands and mimed shooting, _bang bang_. 

That made Sanghyuk smile, at least, even if it were as uneasy as his posture. “Yeah, because of that.”

Jaehwan stared at him. “Sanghyuk, you can’t be serious. I cut people’s hands off for a living. I’ve seen Wonshik do way more damage with a gun than you did.” Granted, he didn’t want to fuck Wonshik, but that wasn’t the point, really. “Trust me, you did not put me off.” 

Sanghyuk nodded slowly. Then he glanced down at Jaehwan, mouth quirking. “So you still want to climb me like a goddamn tree?” 

Jaehwan blushed, just a little, and groaned. “You remember that?” 

“How could I forgot?” Sanghyuk leaned back a little, shoulders braced against the wall behind him. He was slightly slumped, feet bumping against Jaehwan’s shoes. The room felt even more cramped but Jaehwan didn’t mind. It simply meant there was less space for his demons to hide. “It was the first time someone had said something like that to me.” 

Jaehwan picked up a fountain pen from the desk, fiddling with it to give his fingers something to do. When he spoke, his voice was lower than he’d planned. “The other night,” he said, looking up at Sanghyuk, through his eyelashes. “You said you’d never dated anyone before. But does that mean you’ve never been kissed?” 

Sanghyuk flushed and looked away from Jaehwan’s eyes, gaze flickering to the floor, the ceiling, the floor again. He cleared his throat. That would have been answer enough, even without his murmured, “No.” 

The mild panic swept through Jaehwan again. He had, he knew, a responsibility to stop this, whatever it was. He’d had that responsibility in the restaurant too, once he’d found out how inexperienced Sanghyuk was, even before the last few days had proven just _how_ fucked up he was. But, damn it, he’d wanted something nice, to make believe he deserved something like that. He wanted to know what it was like to have Sanghyuk, even if it meant putting his dirty hands on something that was too good for him. Sanghyuk surely deserved better than someone who slept with a knife under his pillow and owned a personalised set of thumb screws. 

But then again, he’d seen Sanghyuk execute a man who was unconscious on the ground, without warning and without mercy. Perhaps thinking of him as innocent in any sense was inaccurate. 

Jaehwan lay the pen down on the desk and reached out to touch Sanghyuk’s arm. Sanghyuk looked at him, without even jerking at the contact, like he’d been able to sense it. Sometimes these damn bodyguard types put Jaehwan to shame. When Jaehwan stood, he was amused to find that his full height still didn’t quite bring him to Sanghyuk’s lounging height. Sanghyuk, after a moment, straightened up, looking at Jaehwan’s face with a confused but soft expression. 

The office was too small and maybe it wasn’t the best place for a first kiss, but this was as good as Jaehwan could give. Sanghyuk should probably get used to it. Jaehwan lifted his hand and curved it around Sanghyuk’s neck, bringing his head down, so that Jaehwan could kiss him, soft and just over the edge of chaste.

He felt Sanghyuk’s hand touch his waist and he pulled back. Sanghyuk was watching him with half-lidded eyes, lips slightly apart. Jaehwan kissed him again, unable to help it, and this time Sanghyuk kissed back, pressing him, the hand on Jaehwan’s waist pulling him closer. 

It was lazy, slow, and Jaehwan found that he didn’t want to change it that much. He got the sense that Sanghyuk was trying to get his bearings. And it was surprising, although maybe it shouldn’t have been, that Sanghyuk did not throw himself into the kiss, but instead took his time, was careful about it. 

Jaehwan cupped Sanghyuk’s jaw with his hands, running his tongue against Sanghyuk’s lips. Sanghyuk made a soft noise and let his mouth fall open easily. It had been a while since Jaehwan had made out with someone in this way. Over the past few years it had never felt like he had enough time to do anything more than find someone at a bar to fuck for one night, just to satisfy that itch he sometimes felt. He always liked it in the moment but afterwards he always felt twitchy, like he’d given something away to a person that he couldn’t trust. 

It had been a long time since he’d kissed someone that he knew and liked, someone he thought he might eventually be able to trust if things went right. He’d certainly not had that since they moved into this house. 

Jaehwan drew back, letting Sanghyuk draw his breath. He was panting a little himself, more than he would have expected. Sanghyuk’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes on Jaehwan’s mouth. Jaehwan wondered what he would look like post-fucking, utterly wrecked and covered in sweat. He couldn’t wait to find out. 

“Was that—” Jaehwan had to pause to swipe his tongue across his lips; he saw Sanghyuk’s pupils dilate. “Adequate?” 

Sanghyuk chuckled softly. His hands, previously resting against Jaehwan’s waist, fisted in the front of his shirt, and tugged him forward in small increments. “Adequate is an understatement.” 

“It’s true that I’ve never had any complaints before,” Jaehwan agreed, his mouth a mere inch from Sanghyuk’s. “But then, you don’t have anything to compare it with.”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Sanghyuk said. 

But it was Sanghyuk who closed the distance between them, his mouth dipping just a little to capture Jaehwan’s. This time Sanghyuk was more aggressive, like his learning period was over; it was still slightly sloppy, but in a decidedly pleasant way. His hands found his way into Jaehwan’s hair, fingers holding him in place, and he kissed Jaehwan like he was a drowning man and Jaehwan was that first gulp of oxygen. 

_Oh god_ , Jaehwan kept thinking, _oh my god_. 

Sanghyuk moved them back, until Jaehwan was pressed against the desk and Sanghyuk towered over him. His hands, movements surprisingly gentle, tipped Jaehwan’s head back, almost cradling, his own head bent so he could keep kissing with an intensity that Jaehwan thought was of the same sort he’d shown on his face when he was about to kill three people. It was a frighteningly appealing thought.

Slowly and deliberately, it had to be deliberately, Sanghyuk sucked on Jaehwan’s bottom lip, dragging it between his teeth. Jaehwan whimpered. It was an embarrassing sound, but shit, he was only human. Sanghyuk growled right into his mouth and then wrenched his face away, hands leaving Jaehwan’s hair. Jaehwan clutched at his shoulders to stop him from going anywhere, but apparently Sanghyuk had no intentions of moving that far. 

Both of his hands slid down Jaehwan’s body, skimming over his ass with almost perfunctory interest, before coming to a rest on Jaehwan’s thighs. Jaehwan didn’t know what he was doing, and then he realised as it was happening; Sanghyuk was lifting him, like he weighed nothing, and setting him on the desk, his legs spread almost obscenely so that Sanghyuk could stand between them and resume kissing Jaehwan with aggression, totally in control now. 

Jaehwan’s mind short-circuited. Even if he’d been in a position to speak, he didn’t think he’d have been able to form anything more than guttural, animal sounds. He pressed himself against Sanghyuk’s body, solid and strong, and whimpered against when his erection met the unyielding muscle of Sanghyuk’s stomach. For one terrifying second he was certain he was going to come in his own pants. The sudden spike in intensity was overwhelming.

Sanghyuk was very obviously affected by it too, his cock a hard bulge in his jeans. Jaehwan hooked a leg around his hips, keeping him close; he wondered if he could get sweet virgin Sanghyuk to press him down into the desk and rut against him until they both came. Maybe he’d even be able to get his hands in Sanghyuk’s pants and feel him, hot and heavy, in his hand. 

But after the initial frenzy of closer, _closer_ , Jaehwan felt Sanghyuk slow down, begin the process of untangling their bodies. Jaehwan let him, keeping his reluctance inside, as the kisses went from frantic and wet back to the soft things of the beginning. Those, Jaehwan could not bring himself to stop. Every time Sanghyuk pulled back, Jaehwan followed, until Sanghyuk was panting but laughing too, a sweet, happy sound. 

“Sorry,” he muttered against Jaehwan’s lips. “Is this okay? I don’t want—” 

“No,” said Jaehwan. Sanghyuk jerked and tried to step back and Jaehwan whined, reeling him back in. “I mean, no, not like this. I thought— maybe you could— on my desk— but I don’t want it to be like this for you.” 

“How do you want it to be?” Sanghyuk pulled back and Jaehwan let him, but Sanghyuk only moved enough to leave their bodies comfortably close, but now Jaehwan could see his face. His hair was a complete mess. Good. 

“When I fuck you,” Jaehwan said, each word precise, knowing as he said it that there could be no going back from it, “I want to fuck you on my bed, with the hours I will need to take you apart like I want to do.” 

Sanghyuk swallowed, his eyes flickering away from Jaehwan’s. His mouth was slick and red; Jaehwan had no doubt his was the same. It _felt_ swollen. “When,” Sanghyuk repeated. 

“Hmm,” said Jaehwan, distracted already. “Come here.” Sanghyuk swayed towards him, and Jaehwan kissed the line of his throat gently, and then opened his mouth and sucked, hard. Sanghyuk gasped and clutched at his shoulders. Jaehwan didn’t pull back until he could be sure that the bruise would last for days. 

“There,” he said, as Sanghyuk touched the tender skin. “That’s my promise, to you.” 

Sanghyuk looked at him from under his lashes. “I’m looking forward to it.”

——

Hakyeon liked evenings like this best, after the sun had set outside and his office was lit only by his desk lamp and the floor lamp in the corner, the former brighter than the other. It was quiet in his office, the only sounds his fountain pen scratching against paper and the creaking of leather as Taekwoon occasionally shifted on the couch. His tablet screen lit his face up from below, casting strange shadows.

It was almost peaceful. It would have been more peaceful if it weren’t for the stacks of files on Hakyeon’s desk, new contracts and legal documents sent over from the law firm they retained, this month’s house expenses to go through because he wasn’t sure he trusted their accountant but didn’t want to tell Taekwoon that just yet. 

Taekwoon made a soft noise under his breath, but when Hakyeon glanced up he was still looking at his screen, a slight crease between his brows. “What is it?” Hakyeon asked, putting his pen down, one hand braced against the desk to push up if there was something wrong. 

Taekwoon looked up at him, still with that frown on his face, but it smoothed out when he saw Hakyeon’s expression. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I was just reviewing the footage from when Sanghyuk and Jaehwan were attacked. I got access to the street cameras and had the nearby stores give me their footage.”

“And?” Hakyeon motioned for Taekwoon to bring it over so Taekwoon did, rising to his feet in one smooth movement and bringing the tablet over where Hakyeon could look at it. The screen showed a video, the sound silenced, of a car, suspiciously dark and boring in style, idling on a street corner. Hakyeon recognised it. It was the corner at the end of the block, the corner of their boundary fence on one side, large townhouses on the other. The car was parked outside one of the townhouses, and it was difficult to see in the camera footage but he could make out three people sitting inside. 

Hakyeon nodded shortly. It only confirmed what they already knew, but it would be reassuring for Taekwoon to have this physical evidence. The car parked outside their house merely made Hakyeon uncomfortable. He was not naive enough to think this was not the first time the Lee family had spied on them from close quarters — there was a reason he allowed Taekwoon such a heavy hand in personnel matters, since he was adept at sniffing out spies from rival families. But he did not like the evidence so clearly in his face. 

He passed the tablet back to Taekwoon, who took it but stood looking at Hakyeon for a long minute, face impassive enough for Hakyeon to struggle to read. Hakyeon blinked back at him. “Did you eat today?” Taekwoon asked eventually, voice a murmur. 

Hakyeon had to think about it, which was telling in itself. “I had breakfast,” he said, trying not to let his doubt over that statement show in his voice.

Taekwoon scowled and tapped the front of the tablet where the clock showed it was after 9pm. Hakyeon winced, and braced himself for the lecture that would no doubt be coming, but Taekwoon just said, “I’ll make us food. You need a break. Come with me.” 

Hakyeon knew better than to argue with him. He stood up and the joints in his shoulders and upper back all popped with the movement. He really had been sitting there far too long; he ignored the look that Taekwoon gave him. Hakyeon knew he worked too much, and he liked to think Taekwoon wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The house was relatively quiet; it was a Tuesday evening, after all, and most of their men did not have anything that stretched this late into the night. Wonshik had the night off, gone to see the boyfriend who had stuck around for longer than most of Wonshik’s other lovers. Hakyeon had not see Jaehwan all day, but he had not signed one of the cars out, which meant he was in his office in the basement and not out causing mischief in the city. 

Hakyeon kept close to Taekwoon’s side as they took the stairs, but was careful to not let their hands brush. The walk was quiet, interrupted by a few young men who walked past and greeted them both with respectful awe in their voices. Newer recruits, then; Hakyeon did not recognise their faces. The kitchen, however, was empty, and spotlessly clean. He had missed dinner, as he usually did, but there was no sign that any cooking had ever taken place in this room. Hakyeon sometimes thought he ran a tight ship but the chef Taekwoon had hired put him to shame. 

“Where’s Sanghyuk?” Hakyeon asked, hoisting himself up onto one of the counters. He’d taken Sanghyuk with him to a meeting that morning but after dismissing him had not seen him since. 

“I sent him to train,” Taekwoon said. “He needs to fight some of the other men. He will grow too used to my fighting style if he isn’t careful.” 

He was pulling things out of the side pantry, the one their chef rarely used. It was here that they kept personal food for the handful of people who actually permanently lived here. There were roughly fifty thousand packets of ramen in there, which always made the chef twitch whenever he caught sight of them. Taekwoon could cook ramen, and that was about it. It was, Hakyeon knew, one of his greatest failings in life. He had watched Taekwoon try to learn to cook, and had, for a joke, bought him cooking lessons for his nineteenth birthday, a present Taekwoon took perfectly seriously. But he could not cook and therefore, he had complained to Hakyeon in the past, he could not provide for him. 

Even knowing that Taekwoon meant it only as a duty as a family retainer, the words had still made Hakyeon thrill. 

Hakyeon watched as Taekwoon laid out everything he would need — the ramen packets, eggs, sliced mushrooms and scallions — and pulled a pot down from an upper shelf. “You really care for Sanghyuk,” he said. 

The statement made Taekwoon visibly uncomfortable, and he shrugged with one shoulder. Hakyeon had wondered, very fondly, more than once about how Taekwoon had managed to get himself engaged when he was so unable to talk about his own emotions and feelings. 

“His job is to protect you,” Taekwoon said. “He cannot do that if he does not adapt to different fighting methods.” 

“It’s more than that,” Hakyeon said, swinging his legs back and forth, his shoes banging slightly against the cupboard doors. “I don’t think you would like to see him hurt.” 

Taekwoon filled the pot with water and set it on the hob, turned it up to boil. Hakyeon was very used to Taekwoon using non-responsiveness as a way of getting out of a conversation and so he simply continued, “I think you’d be very upset if Sanghyuk was hurt.” 

“I would be very upset if any of them were hurt,” Taekwoon said, almost a whisper. “Sanghyuk, or Jaehwan, or Wonshik. But I would rather they were hurt than you were hurt.” 

Hakyeon went still, his breath catching a little in his throat. How he hated it when Taekwoon said things like this, words that meant nothing to say, were merely facts, but meant everything for Hakyeon to hear, kept him going on the hardest nights. These words would be all he had, soon, after Taekwoon was gone. He imagined they were a blanket he could wrap around himself, tight and invisible and with him forever.

“That is their jobs, after all,” he said lightly. “There to fling themselves in front of the speeding bullet.” 

Taekwoon sighed, reaching for the scissors to cut open the ramen packets. “Our lives are not as—” 

“Don’t,” Hakyeon said, loudly enough that it echoed in the empty kitchen. “Please, don’t. I know I chose to take this position for myself and this is what comes with that. But that doesn’t mean I have to like this part of it, Taekwoon. And please don’t say that I am more important than you— or Sanghyuk, or any of them. I can’t think that way.” 

They looked at each other for a long moment, Hakyeon fighting to keep steady. It was hard, when Taekwoon’s gaze was like paint stripper, exposing Hakyeon down to his core. And there was so much he did not want Taekwoon to see inside him. 

Eventually Taekwoon said, “Hakyeon, please—” 

But whatever he was about to say was interrupted by shouting in the hallway, the sounds of running footsteps and doors banging. It was the usual signs of something kicking off, and Hakyeon tore his eyes away from Taekwoon’s and jumped off the counter to his feet. He did not need to look at Taekwoon, or what he was doing — as he strode from the kitchen, he felt Taekwoon settle in behind him, a comforting shadow just a step behind. 

Outside, in the entrance hall, the high ceiling was causing the shouts to echo intolerably. Two of the men, young and definitely low level, were being helped into the house, supported by others. They were covered in blood, one of them barely conscious, his head lolling. Taekwoon darted forward and helped support him, directing the man he’d replaced to run to the basement and get Jaehwan. He looked at Hakyeon, who motioned for him to take the injured men to the med room.

There was such an air of excited chaos that it took Hakyeon a full minute to exert control and make everyone shut up. It took a few more minutes to find the people who actually knew what had happened and were not just gawkers there for the drama. Sometimes running a family felt more like herding a middle school class. 

He took the two men who had seen what happened up to his office, where they sat on his leather couches like students taken to see the principal. He had never spoken to them before but he knew their names and they seemed gratified by that. The story, as they told it, in fitful stops and starts, was that their friends had been patrolling by some new construction that Cha Family Holdings was working on, when four men had jumped out at them, beaten them to within an inch of their lives, and then disappeared — but not before smashing in the windows of the businesses opposite, which also belonged to Hakyeon.

Hakyeon listened to the story doing his best impression of Taekwoon, letting no emotion bleed out. But inside he was simmering, the fire keeping the edge off his growing unease. Nobody but the Lee family would be so bold to do something like this. They were escalating, and Hakyeon had no way of telling what their next step would be. 

——

The lights from the police cars painted the street in blue and red and purple, the flickering of them casting dark shadows down the streets stretching away from the main road. There were three cars, and a number of officers milling around, their features washed out and meaningless in the dim lighting. They had already set up a barrier around the side-street that ran down the side of the construction, and Wonshik could just make out one man wearing a suit rather than a uniform. 

He pulled to a stop on the other side of the street, glancing at Taekwoon in the passenger seat. Taekwoon’s brow was furrowed a little, the set of his shoulders annoyed. There were reporters there, too, blood-thirsty with their cameras, although they would have no idea what was actually going on. The hint of a scandal to do with the Cha family would be enough. Nobody who actually lived in this area seemed to be standing around.

This complicated matters considerably.

“Someone called them,” Wonshik said, pulling the keys out of the ignition and bouncing them once from hand to hand, feeling antsy. He’d been this way since he’d first laid eyes on the blood decorating Mingyu’s face. Wonshik liked Mingyu; he was new, but quiet, did his job just as was requested of him, not afraid to go to less savory areas. Not upset when asked to do something by Wonshik, a gutter rat as much as the rest of them. 

“Probably,” Taekwoon said. “I imagine it was loud. This isn’t the kind of area where the sound of a fight goes ignored.” 

From what Wonshik had made out, it was less a fight and more a bloodbath, but he nodded. Taekwoon took another moment, staring out at the police cars. One of the officers, young-looking in his uniform, was making his way towards the car. Taekwoon let out a small sigh and then got out of the car, stepping out on the road. Wonshik followed his lead quickly. 

“Sir,” called the police officer, as Taekwoon buttoned the jacket he was wearing, taking a moment to ease out any creases before he started walking towards the police tape blocking off the alley. Wonshik rounded the front of the car and fell into step behind him. “You can’t park here, I need to ask you to move along.”

Taekwoon ignored that. “Who is in charge here?” 

The officer glanced once behind him, towards the single man wearing a suit, and then back at Taekwoon. “Sir, really, you need to move the car—”

Taekwoon strode right past the young officer like he wasn’t even there and headed towards the man in the suit. A detective, by the look of him, his hair neatly parted despite the late hour and his shoes perfectly shined despite the environment. Wonshik didn’t recognise him, although he pretty much went out of his way to avoid police attention. Hakyeon’s name protected him now but there had been a time when it hadn’t and those fears didn’t always go quietly away. 

Wonshik didn’t see a flicker of recognition on Taekwoon’s face either, but when they ducked under the police tape, the detective noticed there were interlopers on the scene. He looked over with annoyance, mouth open to tell them to go away, and then he caught sight of Taekwoon and whatever he was about to say died. He sure as hell recognised Taekwoon.

Still, he tried his best. “Sir, you can’t be here, this is a crime scene—” 

Taekwoon gave him a look that would have made Wonshik wither up on the spot. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “You know who I am. Who are you? Why are all these police officers crawling around our construction site.”

The detective went a little pale but gave over the pretense like he didn’t know who Taekwoon was. “Detective Kim Donghyun, Sir. Someone called about a suspected robbery. My men were sent to investigate.”

Taekwoon raised an eyebrow. “And you needed over half a dozen men to investigate?” 

“We found blood at the scene,” Kim said, in the manner of a man who was quite aware he was losing control over a conversation. “Sir, you really shouldn’t—” 

“Do you really mean to tell me that you found blood at a Cha Family construction site and that I shouldn’t be here while you investigate?” Taekwoon asked, his eyebrow raising even higher. He was so good at hiding in the background behind Hakyeon, the silent, stoic bodyguard, that moments like this when he projected his power, shoulders thrown back and chin held high, were all the more impressive to Wonshik. “Where did you find the blood? I want to see it.” 

Kim looked for a minute like he was going to argue and insist that Taekwoon return to his car. But he also didn’t look like a young man; he looked like one decidedly old enough to know how the game was played. In this area of town, refusing to do what Taekwoon said wasn’t likely to end very well for him. Eventually he motioned for a uniformed officer, different than before, to come forward. “Show the gentlemen where you found the blood,” he said. He sounded irritated and a little resentful; a man who would do what he needed to do keep his job, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. “Answer any questions that they have. I need to talk to the scene techs.” 

He left them with an officer who looked like he would rather shoot his own foot off than have to deal with Taekwoon. Taekwoon didn’t show any emotion on his face but Wonshik felt a quick bite of anger on his behalf at being palmed off on some nobody. Still, the officer took them further into the alley, where a few lights had been set up for the crime scene technicians to work under. A couple of them were still there, taking photographs, but they moved away when the officer asked them to. 

There was broken glass everywhere, from the smashed in windows of the new building to their left. Wonshik nudged some of it aside with the toe of his shoe. There was blood on the ground and up the wall of the closed cafe on the other side of the side street, more blood than any police officer could really ignore. Wonshik wasn’t surprised that they had stuck around after they saw it, the splash of red staining into the concrete. 

Wonshik asked, quietly, “How much is it going to cost to make this go away?”

Taekwoon looked at him sideways, with a small huff of breath that wasn’t a laugh. “More than I would like,” he said. “I would almost prefer to just let them investigate. It would serve the Lees right if some of their men got arrested for it.” 

“But nobody would be able to actually tie it to them,” Wonshik pointed out, and knew from the way Taekwoon looked at him that Taekwoon already knew that. “So they’d just get away with it, as usual.” 

Taekwoon lifted a shoulder in a sharp, jerky motion; it wasn’t a shrug, it looked more like an annoyed twitch. “Trust me, nobody is happy about it, Wonshik.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the entrance to the alley, where Kim stood talking to two people who Wonshik assumed were scene techs. “I’ll go see what it’s going to cost to get them to fuck off. You see if you can figure out what actually went on here, and what we need to do to deal with it.” 

Wonshik gave him a mock salute, which was something Jaehwan would have done, and which Taekwoon responded to with a withering look. Then he turned and strode away, long legs taking him to do battle with the northern district police department. A few of the officers milling about actually moved out of his way as he got nearer; probably there was a picture of Taekwoon’s face in the police department somewhere with a sign underneath that just said DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nobody bothered Wonshik. They mostly seemed to be pretending like he didn’t exist, which suited him well enough. The blood against the wall kept drawing his eye, keeping his attention focused on the violence done here. Turning it over in his head, staring at the wall until it blurred and warped. 

He was used to violence. He had to be, with this job, with the life he had lived even before that. He had spent half his life getting into fights and the only difference had been that for the past few years, there’d been a legitimacy towards the violence he doled out. Hakyeon’s money kept him safe. And he could do more, now, than just bloody his knuckles punching them into someone’s teeth; he knew how to shoot, knew how to kill in the most efficient ways. 

It wasn’t even that he liked violence. He didn’t get off on causing it, but it wasn’t— he wasn’t like Jaehwan, either, who treated fights with utter disdain at best, who didn’t like to be hurt and couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. Wonshik simply accepted violence as a fact of his life. True, he couldn’t hold a gun without the overwhelming urge to shoot something, and yes, the threat of his violence helped him with 80% of his day-to-day job. But Wonshik didn’t _like_ it— he was simply used to it. 

But this felt different. This sat heavily in his stomach, a lead weight. They’d always had skirmishes with the Lee family, ranging from small fights breaking out among the younger family employees to highly publicised business venture clashes at the higher end. But there had never been anything like this, never one family outright attacking the other. The Lees were vicious and cruel and dangerously ambitious, but they weren’t stupid — and Wonshik knew he wasn’t the only one who was worried about this sudden escalation. 

The cafe backed onto a much smaller alley, a few feet wide at most, just enough for a fire escape and nothing else. There were a couple of cigarette butts near the entry of the alley. Whoever had done this had waited, just like they had with Sanghyuk and Jaehwan. It had been planned in advance. There’d be nothing to actually tie the attack to the Lee family, and Taekwoon would just make the whole thing go away anyway — the last thing the Cha family wanted was any kind of police investigation, no matter what the cause. And everyone involved in this fuck up of a situation knew it. 

This was the world Wonshik had lived in for the past six years. It was the only job he’d ever known where both his physical strength and easy-going nature were assets. He didn’t have to push down one in favour of the other — Hakyeon wanted him to be friendly, to keep the peace in the less reputable areas of the family business, whilst still having the ability to hold his own if anything went wrong. Wonshik had never questioned that; being by Hakyeon’s side was where he was supposed to be, and he knew that. He’d had no doubt that he would probably die in the line of duty for Hakyeon, and he’d been as fine with that as one could be.

But— it felt a little different, now. Hongbin made it feel different. 

It was one thing, he knew, to throw himself into this world, quite another to expect someone else to do the same. It was a world of red blood against concrete and corpses with broken necks sprawled on the ground, their sightless eyes staring up. It was not— not what Hongbin was, smooth leather boots and hazelnut-vanilla coffee at 2am and lazy Sunday mornings in bed together. Wonshik found it near impossible to reconcile the two together.

But he _wanted_. Fuck, how he wanted, to bring these halves of his life together and have Hongbin just _fit_. And he’d thought about it so often recently, worrying over the thought like a dog with a bone. He wanted so badly to tell Hongbin the truth and have the chips fall perfectly in line. He knew it was naive, to imagine Hongbin would even be comfortable with this world, never mind want to join in. Hell, Hongbin was a law student — there was no way he would be comfortable with the kind of things a family got up to. But Wonshik had at least been able to daydream about it.

Things like this gave him pause. He never quite forgot that this world was dangerous, but it was usually so easy to ignore. His line in the sand was so much further past where a random civilian’s would be. Thinking of himself in danger barely registered because he so often was — but he’d never before thought just how much danger he could be putting _Hongbin_ in, if he tried bringing him into the family. The blood on the wall, the swollen raw face of the family worker as he was hauled through to the med room in the basement, were pretty stark wake-up calls in that regard. 

He glanced back at Taekwoon, who was talking to Kim, his shoulders tense and a little hunched, an anxious tic that even Taekwoon apparently couldn’t master. Wonshik would have to talk to both Hakyeon and Taekwoon about it before he went about telling Hongbin the truth, and even just the thought of that made his own shoulders hunch. Even just that, at least, was enough to keep putting it off. The thought shouldn’t have been so relieving. 

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You’re a mess, Wonshik,” he muttered to himself, and ignored the sideways glance one of the nearby officers gave him.

——

The med room, tucked away in a corner of the basement in the west wing, was two rooms, both large and connected by a door between them. The walls were painted white, probably to make up for the fact that there were no windows and the only light came from the strip lighting. An unfortunate side effect was that blood splatters tended to show up much more easily. Every six months, Jaehwan got a few of the new guys to come in and repaint the whole thing.

The first room was more of a clinic than anything, with hard wooden chairs along one wall for people to wait on. There were three beds against the opposite wall, silver metal framed ones with firm mattresses. The only way to hide the beds from view were folding screens that Jaehwan kept in a side cupboard. They were large and unruly and he preferred to leave them where they were if he could help it. In an attempt at cheering the place up, each bed had sheets in a different bright colour, because the white sheets they’d originally had made it all feel too bleak. 

The second room was slightly smaller, and there were a couple more beds in there, closer together against the wall. There was also an operating table, large with black padded surfaces, standing mostly upright, right in the middle of the room. It wasn’t the latest model, Jaehwan hadn’t bought a new one when he’d moved into the house, but his feelings on it were that if it wasn’t broken, don’t fix it. It was made even more ominous by the fact that at some point, someone had fitted leather straps to it, across the arms and legs and torso. Jaehwan would have liked to believe that it was purely to keep someone still during a dangerous surgery, but he wasn’t so naive. The reality was this room wasn’t built for any kind of real surgery. The bed in there was for the worst case scenarios, when it was better to risk that than going to hospital. He’d never had to use it yet, and did not particularly like to look at it.

He stood in the centre of the first room, looking at the one occupied bed. These two rooms were Jaehwan’s domain, his own kingdom where even Hakyeon had to bow to his wishes. Nobody entered without his permission. He had one key, which he kept with him always, and Taekwoon had the only copy, given to him because Jaehwan knew he should not keep it too locked up, and Taekwoon was unobtrusive and unlikely to take anything Jaehwan missed. 

But he did not spend much time here. He came only when he needed to, which was, unfortunately, any time someone was hurt. It wasn’t that he did not like to see people hurt — most people in this family didn’t matter much to him one way or another, and patching them was usually an easy task. These rooms made him uncomfortable nonetheless. Entering them felt like entering a warped version of reality, a halfway state between the life he had and the life that he’d planned to have for so many years. 

He sighed and bent over the sleeping man in the bed. He put his first two fingers against the man’s wrist and measured his pulse, using the timer on his phone to count the seconds. The man’s heart was slow and steady, what Jaehwan would have expected. He let the man’s wrist drop to the orange sheets of the bed and noted down the pulse speed next to the other readings he had, which he’d taken every hour so far.

He didn’t think the kid was in any danger. And he was a kid, not even nineteen, his face more bruise than anything. The other kid who had been brought to him, he’d patched up and set off to bed to sleep it off. This one though, younger and more injured, had hit his head, and Jaehwan was afraid of a concussion. So Jaehwan had stayed here all night, catching quick snatches of sleep at the desk in the corner, alarms set to wake him up to perform his checks. 

He put his chart down on the desk and collapsed into the rolling desk chair behind it. He needed to run inventory sometime soon. Bearing in mind how rarely he was in here, they still seemed to go through an obscene amount of bandages. He needed more morphine, needed to ask Taekwoon to find more blood to keep in their fridge, just in case. This was the second attack on the family in less than a week — preparing for _just_ in case felt like the safest thing to do. 

He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache he could feel building in his forehead. He had not slept enough the past few nights, his own attack still hanging over him. This night of quick cat naps was not helping with that, and the lighting in here was starting to hurt his eyes. He might have to ask Wonshik in here, to watch over the patient for a few hours, whilst Jaehwan tried to catch some actual sleep. 

For now, though, he set the alarm on his phone for the next time he needed to take a pulse reading, and reached for his laptop so he could review the footage Taekwoon had asked him to look at. Taekwoon had already managed to get all the video footage from the bars near where the previous night’s attack took place, and was waiting on the city and police cameras from that area. Taekwoon would review it too but he wanted Jaehwan to look first and watch out for anything suspicious, any signs of what had come to pass. 

He was on his third video and could feel his eyelids fluttering shut, each blink that much longer than the previous, when the door to the room opened with a soft click of the handle. Hakyeon stepped in looking strangely dressed down, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and his hair in slight disarray, like he’d been running his hands through it. He gave Jaehwan a soft smile.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I just wanted to check up on your patient.” 

Jaehwan got to his feet and motioned to the sleeping man. “Feel free. He’s sleeping, I put him under to help with the pain. He has some fractured ribs so it’s best if he doesn’t move around too much.” 

Hakyeon nodded, moving to the bed. He didn’t touch the man but he stood there in silence for a minute, looking down at him, face creased in a frown. He was very out of place here. Jaehwan wondered where he’d been before this, what he had been doing about the very real threat the Lee family seemed to now pose. He took note of the dark circles under Hakyeon’s eyes, the way his bottom lip seemed irritated, like he’d been chewing it. 

“He’s fine,” Jaehwan said quietly. Hakyeon’s head lifted to look at him. Jaehwan wasn’t sure what he was offering, wasn’t even sure if Hakyeon needed reassurance, but he could give it anyway. “He’s not in any danger, he’ll recover easily.” 

Hakyeon made a soft noise. He looked back at the man and then sighed and looked around the room, like he was taking it in for the first time, although he’d come down here just last month. Jaehwan wondered what he was seeing. It was true that Jaehwan had made very few actual changes to the rooms since they’d moved in, so it must look remarkably similar to how it had when Hakyeon’s uncle had been the head of the family. Back then one of Hakyeon’s distant cousins had held Jaehwan’s position, these rooms his to do as he wished with. Jaehwan didn’t know how exactly he and Hakyeon were related, just that the cousin hadn’t been one of the children of his immediate uncles, distant enough that he was probably still living in the city without needing to change his name. Lucky to not be exiled to the country or abroad like the rest of Hakyeon’s closer cousins. Smart enough to not get himself killed, like the cousin whose blood had ruined the gorgeous persian rug Hakyeon had installed in his office when they first moved in. 

Hakyeon’s gaze landed on Jaehwan. He smiled tiredly. “Would you like me to take over?” he asked. “You must be exhausted.”

Jaehwan snorted. “You should try looking in the mirror,” he said. “Does Taekwoon know you’re wandering around looking like all night of the living dead?” 

Hakyeon rolled his eyes. He put his hands into his pockets and came back over to the desk, looking at the charts and files spread across it with interest. He didn’t look at Jaehwan when he said, “I know you haven’t been sleeping well, and I know that you don’t like being down here. I can handle it for a few hours.”

Jaehwan started, surprised that Hakyeon knew either of those things. He had not seen Hakyeon for days. Then he tried to smile. “Nobody likes hospitals, Hakyeon, not even doctors.” 

Hakyeon shook his head, looking at Jaehwan with a kind of quiet intensity that he _must_ have learned from Taekwoon. “Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’ve had to give up to be a part of this family,” he said. “Your peace of mind, your dreams and future plans. I know that what happened earlier this week must have affected you—”

“Did Taekwoon tell you?” Jaehwan asked, weary at the thought. 

“No,” Hakyeon said. “But he didn’t have to. Give me some credit in knowing you, Jaehwan.” He smiled, to take some of the sting out of his words. “I cannot make it okay, I know that. But if I can make it a little easier, then I’d like to do that.” 

Jaehwan kept his mouth shut, for once, because he did not know what was going on. He wondered if Hakyeon had been drinking. Then he saw the way Hakyeon glanced at the sleeping man and realised that no, this was misplaced guilt. “You’re busy,” he said firmly. “And you need to rest also. You matter more than me, Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon made an aborted motion, almost a flinch. Then he said, “Ask someone for help, if you need it.” It was not a question but an order. Jaehwan nodded and Hakyeon sighed. “Okay. I’ll let you get on with it.” 

He headed for the door. Right as he was stepping over the threshold, Jaehwan said, “Hakyeon.” Hakyeon turned back to him, face openly curious. “I did not give up on medical school for this family,” Jaehwan said. “I gave up on it because I did not like it. And maybe that makes me selfish— I know how much you spent on that school. But I dropped out because I didn’t want to do it anymore. That’s all.” 

Hakyeon’s eyes were inscrutable, but he nodded slowly. “I knew that,” he said. “And I don’t think it makes you selfish.” He fell quiet for a moment or two, looking like he had something to add, but in the end, he only said, “I’ll let Sanghyuk know you’re down here. He was asking where you were.” 

Jaehwan bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself smiling, to hide the embarrassing flutter in his stomach at the thought of seeing Sanghyuk. He kept his voice casual when he said, “I’d like that.” But he sensed that Hakyeon was laughing at him anyway when he shut the door after himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER IS LONG UR WELCOME
> 
> i saw elisabeth last night and taekwoon was amazing and then as i was leaving i fell down some stairs and fucked my left thigh and skinned my right knee and i am PAIN and it is all taekwoon's fault. 
> 
> so he will Suffer in my fic eventually.

Hakyeon sorted through the papers in the folder in front of him for probably the fifth time, taking it slowly, reading everything again. He could most likely quote most of it by heart at this point, but he took his time anyway, checking one more time. Perhaps this time — this time everything would add up to something different, something other than the answer he had gotten from the past four read throughs. 

It was late — or it was early, more truthfully. Hakyeon was used to staying up late but this was pushing it even for him. The house had gone still and silent long ago. He had snuck back in here after saying goodnight to Taekwoon, who would probably kill him if he ever knew Hakyeon was working at this time. His head ached, and his eyes had started stinging at some point in the past hour but he couldn’t sleep until he had figured this out. Until he knew for certain. 

The folder wasn’t particularly full, but there was enough to be damning. Information on the inner workings of the Lee family was difficult to come by, and it had taken a few months to collect even just this. Harder still to collect it without Taekwoon figuring out that he was doing so. But Hakyeon had worked his contacts, figured out the weak links in the Lee’s empire — workers on their docks who could be paid to talk, informants who managed to get a foothold in the lower rungs, workers who were a little too mouthy when plied with alcohol. That kind of behaviour would never be allowed on Taekwoon’s watch; that was probably one of the reasons the Lee family had made a couple of advances on Taekwoon in the past. 

He rubbed at his face with a hand, feeling tears prick for the first time. He was so tired, and this was — so awful. Everything in this folder caused revulsion to rise up inside him, and like always he wanted to do nothing more than take it to Taekwoon and unload it into Taekwoon’s lap and let him deal with it. But Taekwoon would want to handle it immediately, and Hakyeon— couldn’t. Not yet. 

It did change his plans, somewhat, though. He’d known the Lee family were up to something; their friendship with the mayor could only be a ploy for more power in a city where they already had too much of it in their filthy hands. But this was beyond the pale, and Hakyeon really did not know what to do about it right now. Perhaps it just brought his timeline up a little — but if he did that, he would be losing Taekwoon that bit sooner. 

He hated himself a little for that thought. Losing Taekwoon was nothing compared to stopping the horror of the Lee family. But he was selfish and weak and always had been and he didn’t want to say goodbye before he absolutely had to. He would cling to Taekwoon until he was forced to release that death grip from Taekwoon’s clothing. 

He closed the folder, smothering a yawn against the back of his hand, and stood to slip it back into the back of his filing cabinet, behind the other folders, the ones that wannabe thieves would be far more interested in. One thing was for sure — if he was going to carry this out, he couldn’t just rely on himself. The Cha family had a lot of power, but so did the Lees, and they had allies to help them. Hakyeon needed that, as much as he hated to admit it. He had gotten to this point on his own, but the stakes were so much higher now. He needed to reach out to others.

He would arrange a meeting with the head of the Choi family then. They were a smaller family, almost lost in the struggle between the Cha and Lee families, but they had manpower, and they had money, although their income was somewhat erratic; they owned a good deal of the desirable land in the city and in the outskirts, so that even Hakyeon had had to pay them to build sometimes. Choi Jungwoon was proud, but desperate to make it into the major leagues. Hakyeon would simply have to find the right approach to win him over.

——

Jaehwan had not been on a date for a very long time. It was mostly through choice. The thought of venturing outside of the family to find someone to date made his skin feel itchy. For the past five years he’d had nothing more than single nights of pleasure with people to whom he remained nameless. He was fine with that: he was not like Wonshik, a hopeless romantic despite the shitty life he’d struggled through. 

He stood in front of his mirror, squinting at his reflection. He may have been fine without dating but that meant that now he had no idea what he was doing. He did not know what to wear and it was messing with his head. He did not usually feel this much pressure to dress right. He did not even know why it needed to be _right_ , or what _right_ even entailed. He fucking hated his brain sometimes. 

It didn’t help that Sanghyuk had been remarkably reticent about what they were going to be doing. Bearing in mind that Jaehwan wouldn’t have been against a movie and some making out, he thought this cloak and dagger routine was a little much. All Sanghyuk had said was that Jaehwan should dress casually. That meant that Jaehwan had pulled on some dark jeans and a dark grey shirt, and now was staring into the mirror wondering if this was too casual. Should he wear his leather boots or his sneakers? Did the jeans need to be skinnier? He had a pair that were even tighter but they weren’t the right colour. Did it _matter_? 

He realised he was shoving a hand through the hair that he’d spent fifteen minutes carefully styling and threw both arms into the air in frustration. In a fit of decision making that could only come when he finally reached the end of his tether, he turned around, shoved his feet into his nicest pair of sneakers, the expensive black Fila ones, and grabbed his wallet and keys from his bed. He glanced at his phone as he picked it up and realised that he’d spent so long fussing over his clothes, he was late, which was just fucking great. 

There was a rap at his bedroom door. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was. He stuffed his phone into his back pocket and strode over and wrenched the door open. Sanghyuk was standing on the other side, posture casual, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Jaehwan would have relaxed at the sight of those jeans, but Sanghyuk was also wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. This one looked soft, with a V-neck and in a rich burgundy colour that looked good against Sanghyuk’s skin tone. 

“Hey,” said Sanghyuk cheerfully, moving back and forward on the balls of his feet for a moment, almost a bounce. “You ready?” 

Jaehwan looked him up and down. He was wearing sneakers too, a pair of Vans that were almost the same colour as his t-shirt. Jaehwan scowled. “No,” he said. “Where are we going? You know what, wait there a minute.” 

He closed the door in Sanghyuk’s confused face and turned back to his room with a renewed sense of understanding. He changed his shirt for a cotton t-shirt in the same colour with sleeves that ended just above the elbow. When he looked in the mirror he looked nice but as casual as Sanghyuk had obviously intended. 

When he opened the door again, Sanghyuk grinned at him and seemed, for a minute, about to make fun of him. Jaehwan said, “You can’t tell someone to dress casual for a date, Sanghyuk, what if I’d turned up in sweatpants.”

Sanghyuk’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile became softer. “You would still look good,” he said. 

Jaehwan rolled his eyes. Sanghyuk stepped back to let him out of the room and stood patiently whilst Jaehwan locked the door behind him. He did not even raise an eyebrow at the fact of it. Jaehwan’s was the only bedroom that could be locked from the outside. He’d had it installed back when he first moved in, an actual lock with a key that he kept on his person at all times. It may have been easier to have an automatic lock installed, but there was something excruciatingly comforting about having the physical key with him. It didn’t make much sense — he knew very well how easily locks could be picked — but the tangible weight of the key was a security blanket of sorts.

He put the key into his pocket and raised an eyebrow at Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk motioned in front of him and then began to walk. Jaehwan copied him, keeping step as they turned down the corridor towards the stairs. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” he asked.

Sanghyuk raised an eyebrow in turn. His hair wasn’t styled up today, and it looked very soft and a little fluffy. Jaehwan kind of wanted to run his fingers through it. “We’re not going anywhere,” Sanghyuk said. 

Jaehwan paused, halfway down the stairs. Sanghyuk kept going, only glancing back over his shoulder to indicate that he’d noticed Jaehwan had stopped. “What do you mean we’re not going anywhere,” Jaehwan said. He took the rest of the stairs at speed until he’d joined Sanghyuk at the bottom. “I thought you were taking me on a date.” 

Even just saying the words out loud felt a little silly. He could feel his ears burning. Jaehwan was not someone who you typically took on a date, and he was not sure that Sanghyuk fully understood that yet. Even back in college, when Jaehwan had been— better, he had not been asked on many dates. He was someone people took to bed for a time and then bailed on before having to deal with his crazy. Jaehwan had never blamed them for it — he did not want to deal with his crazy either.

But Sanghyuk had asked for the date, had specifically arranged it for a time they were both off work, and Jaehwan wasn’t martyr enough to say no.

“I am,” said Sanghyuk. He visibly hesitated for a moment, a look which seemed odd on him, and then took Jaehwan’s hand in his own. Annoyance at how his hand was bigger than Jaehwan’s battled for dominance against a vaguely aroused pleasure at their skin on skin, and eventually the pleasure won out. “We’re just not going anywhere.” 

Jaehwan sighed and without dropping Sanghyuk’s hand motioned for them to continue. “Lead the way.” 

They did not leave through the front door. Instead Sanghyuk took them through the dimly lit, cool interior of the house, through the kitchen busy with lunch preparations, and through a hallway out onto the back courtyard. 

It was the same courtyard they’d spoken at a couple of months ago. The cherry blossoms had been and gone and now the tree just stood green, laden with leaves. It was warm outside, almost too warm, and the humidity would only add to that. Jaehwan squinted at the sun like it personally offended him, because it did. It did not feel like the middle of spring, the season of new life and fresh beginnings, a clean season. It felt like it was pre-summer, and Jaehwan didn’t like that. 

Sanghyuk led him out onto the lawn. It had been cut only that morning, and the air still smelled of freshly mown grass. Jaehwan was pretty baffled now, not sure at all where they were going. But he kept walking, not wanting to let go of Sanghyuk’s hand. Sanghyuk, in turn, was not quite clutching him, but his hand had tightened and he kept shooting side-looks at Jaehwan as if gauging his reaction. Jaehwan just kept giving him one raised eyebrow in response. He did not know what he was supposed to be reacting to. 

They rounded the side of the house, to a little side area that wasn’t visible from the offices or bedrooms. This area was lined with trees, and then, behind that, the outer walls of the property, standing another half of Sanghyuk’s height above his head. Spread out under the shade of two particularly enthusiastically leafy trees was a blanket, pale yellow with a white check, held down in each corner with a large rock, which had probably been taken from the rockery in front of the house. There was an honest to god picnic basket sitting in the middle of the blanket and then a bottle of soda, a bottle of red wine, a bottle of white in a portable ice bucket, and a small set of speakers of the kind which could be plugged into a phone.

Jaehwan looked at it, feeling overwhelmed with delight. It was, without a doubt, the cheesiest thing he had ever seen. And he was friends with Wonshik. 

“Oh my god,” he said. “It’s a picnic. This is so corny.” 

Sanghyuk drooped and let go of his hand. Jaehwan snatched it back and used it to tug Sanghyuk down until he could press both hands to either of Sanghyuk’s cheeks and say, seriously, “No, you don’t understand, I mean that in the best way.” 

Sanghyuk looked at him for a few seconds and then half-smiled. “You like it?” 

Jaehwan let go of him, suddenly aware of quite how close their faces were, and swept an arm across the scene, like a painter revealing a masterpiece. “I love it.” 

And he did. It was, perhaps, indicative of what Sanghyuk thought dates were — it was like something out of a teen movie, something Jaehwan would have thought seemed cute when he was in high school. It was still cute now, but more so because Sanghyuk had clearly put a lot of effort into it. It _was_ corny, but it was also extremely endearing.

Jaehwan flopped down onto the blanket, and found that it was soft and surprisingly cool to the touch, although the ground underneath was not overly comfortable. He scooted backwards to the section that was not directly in the sun. It was a lot cooler in the shade, the temperature dropping to something bearable. The cicadas screamed, but he found that he didn’t mind. 

“The trees are angry,” he told Sanghyuk. 

Sanghyuk laughed and sat down next to him. He looked more relaxed, a pleased smile dancing around his mouth. Jaehwan had not realised until he saw Sanghyuk’s relief just how worried he had been that Jaehwan would either not like this idea or would laugh at it. Instead of commenting on that, he pushed the picnic basket in Sanghyuk’s direction. 

“What have you provided for me,” he said. 

Sanghyuk began pulling his goodies out of the basket with a dramatic flourish that delighted Jaehwan even more. There were ham and swiss cheese sandwiches stuffed so full that Jaehwan wasn’t sure he could pick one up with just one hand. There were cartons of carrot sticks and sliced cucumbers and a bag of corn chips, along with small tubs of hummus and salsa. There was a bowl of sliced fruit and berries, all tossed up together, and Jaehwan had immediate plans to pick out all the pineapple and raspberries. 

Sanghyuk pointed to the soda and wine. “I wasn’t sure what you would want,” he said. “I thought it best to cover all my bases.” 

Jaehwan bit down on the joke about whether Sanghyuk was old enough to drink. He wasn’t, which would have made it awkward, but he also suspected that it didn’t matter. Taekwoon and Hakyeon probably made for extremely weird surrogate parents but he doubted if either of them cared if Sanghyuk drank alcohol. 

“I prefer white wine,” Jaehwan said. “But I think we’ll stick with the soda.” 

Sanghyuk nodded without protest. He had brought little plastic cups out, the red kind Jaehwan had used at frat parties in college. He wondered if Sanghyuk would have poured the wine into those too, and then remembered that he’d definitely drunk wine out of them in college too. He took the cup and sipped a little at the Coke in there, wetting his lips mostly. 

Sanghyuk started taking the lids off the tupperware, the _pops_ of the plastic loud in the quiet between them. Jaehwan said, “Why on earth did you decide to take me on a picnic?” 

Sanghyuk shrugged. He pulled paper plates out of the bottom of the basket and passed one to Jaehwan. “I didn’t think you would want to leave the house,” he said. “Not after what happened last time we went out together. I didn’t want to push too hard.” 

Jaehwan held the cup between both of his hands. Slowly he said, “I can leave the house.” He could, at this point. The fact that he had not, and did not want to yet, was another matter entirely. 

“I know,” said Sanghyuk. “But I wanted you to be comfortable. And I’m more comfortable here, at least until we know what the fuck is going on.” He grinned at Jaehwan, reaching across for one of the sandwiches. Jaehwan noted that he had no trouble picking it up one-handed. “Besides, this way I get you all to myself.” 

Jaehwan narrowed his eyes at him. “For someone who has never dated before, you are suspiciously smooth sometimes.” 

“I practise a lot in the mirror,” Sanghyuk said. “It’s one of the important life lessons Taekwoon taught me.” 

Jaehwan couldn’t hold in his snort of laughter. He grabbed a carrot stick and chewed on it, still chuckling. The thought of Taekwoon as _smooth_ was singularly hilarious. It was still a wonder to Jaehwan that he’d managed to get himself engaged at one point. All Taekwoon knew how to talk about was Hakyeon and the ways in which the city surveillance network could be modernised. 

He felt Sanghyuk’s eyes on him and when he glanced over Sanghyuk was watching him, a worryingly unguarded smile on his face. It made Jaehwan nervous to see. It would be so easy, he felt in a flash, to take advantage of Sanghyuk. He could quite easily break him, if he wanted to. And he felt again that fear, that what he was doing was wrong, that Sanghyuk deserved someone better, someone his age who was also playful and almost carefree. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, biting into another carrot stick obnoxiously. 

“It’s nice to see you smiling and laughing, that’s all,” Sanghyuk said. “When we— spoke, in your office last week, you seemed off, to begin with.” 

Jaehwan looked down at the picnic blanket, eyes tracking over the criss-cross pattern of yellow and white. It was pretty, more delicate than anything Jaehwan would have expected to see in this house. “Mm,” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady and vague as possible. 

Sanghyuk touched his hand. His fingers were not as soft as Jaehwan would have expected for someone who did not do manual work, but he wondered at what learning how to fight did to you. “I hope you don’t mind,” Sanghyuk said. His voice was a very quiet, intimate thing all of a sudden. “I spoke to Taekwoon about you.” 

Jaehwan flinched, a little, and he knew Sanghyuk saw it. But it made sense that Sanghyuk would have done so, and besides, he’d done the same. He’d asked Taekwoon about Sanghyuk, even in a roundabout way, trying to seek out whatever information he could. It had been about feeling safe, as safe as he could. And he couldn’t fault Sanghyuk for wanting to know about him in return. 

He was mostly just worried about what Taekwoon had told Sanghyuk. There were a lot of secrets that Jaehwan was not willing to share just yet. 

“I’m sure he sang my praises,” Jaehwan said. His voice was light, which he was proud of. “I think he has a crush on me, you know.” 

Sanghyuk smiled. For a few seconds his fingertips danced patterns across the back of Jaehwan’s hand and then he pulled it away. Jaehwan was both relieved at and resented the loss of contact. He did not often like people touching him without his permission, but, he was realising, it usually felt okay when it was Sanghyuk. “I’m sure he does,” Sanghyuk said. “Who could blame him for it?” 

How did he _do_ that? Jaehwan knew he should keep up with the carefree mood, but he said, “What did he say about me?” 

“Nothing much,” Sanghyuk said. “I didn’t ask all that much, to be honest. I just wanted to know if he’d spoken to you after we were attacked. You said that you weren’t upset or angry with me but I knew there was something going on.” 

Jaehwan pressed his lips together, hard enough to hurt. Sanghyuk touched his chin and he looked up in surprise. “I suppose he told you about my crazy,” Jaehwan managed. It was so hard to keep any bitterness from his voice. 

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Sanghyuk said. “Not like that. He told me that I needed to talk to you about it, if I wanted to know anything substantial.” He chuckled a little under his breath. “I never really expected anything less. Taekwoon is really good at keeping secrets.”

“He’s spent twenty nine years keeping Hakyeon’s,” said Jaehwan sardonically. “That doesn’t surprise me” 

Sanghyuk’s mouth quirked. “Exactly. And so I’m talking to you about it, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to tell me anything that you don’t want to.” He was quiet for a few seconds, and Jaehwan didn’t interrupt, sensing that Sanghyuk wasn’t done. For all he was smooth with his flirting, Jaehwan was getting the definite sense that Sanghyuk was not quite so good at getting more complex emotions right when he spoke them aloud. “I think what happened made you uncomfortable, and I understand that. But it seemed more than that, you seemed— unwell. And I simply wanted to know why, if you were willing to share.” 

Jaehwan let out a breath, trying to hold down the panic that threatened to crest over him at the request. He could so easily tell Sanghyuk that he didn’t want to talk about it, and that urge was strongest. He did not like to talk about how messed up he was inside. It was nigh impossible to untangle all of the crazy to find the strand that would help it all make narrative sense. He also simply did not want to give Sanghyuk all of that to handle. It would make him too vulnerable too quickly, and it would give Sanghyuk too much to use against him. He didn’t think Sanghyuk would use it to hurt him, but thinking and knowing were two separate things. 

“This house makes me feel safe,” he said eventually. “And what happened made me and this house feel unsafe.” 

Sanghyuk said, very softly, “Oh.” 

“I don’t cope well with feeling unsafe,” Jaehwan said. “I need— I need to feel safe, Sanghyuk. I need to have a place in my life where the outside cannot find me.” 

Most people, when they heard Jaehwan talk about this, rushed to reassure him that the places he considered unsafe were in fact safe. They acted like there was something broken inside him, which there was, but he didn’t appreciate their attempts at fixing it a lot of the time. The fact was that he knew the only thing that could fix him were a fuckton of meds, and his paranoia was so intense that the thought of putting anything in his body to dampen his instincts filled him with terror. 

Instead of saying anything faux-helpful, Sanghyuk asked, “What will happen if the outside finds you?” 

Jaehwan smiled. It was not a nice smile. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s never found me before. But it came close, a couple of weeks back. Those Lee family thugs found out where I lived and tried to encroach on that territory. It was hard to come to terms with that.” He motioned to the house, the cool beige stone, the slightly crumbling mortar between each slab. “I made this place into that safe place, and I just needed time to come back around to that.” 

Sanghyuk nodded slowly. He held out a hand and after a moment of confused hesitation, Jaehwan took it. Sanghyuk tugged him closer, guiding a bemused Jaehwan into his personal space and then even closer. One moment Jaehwan was kneeling on the picnic blanket, the next he was sitting in Sanghyuk’s lap, his legs slung to the side over Sanghyuk’s crossed pair. It was extremely concerning how quickly his heart started pounding in his chest.

“What is this?” he asked. He thought about climbing back off, but Sanghyuk put an arm around his waist and held him in his place with his hand against Jaehwan’s hip, not pinning Jaehwan down but heavy enough that Jaehwan didn’t move. Jaehwan covered the hand on his hip with his own; the other he put against Sanghyuk’s shoulder. Sanghyuk’s face was very close like this. It would not take much to kiss him again. But Sanghyuk was watching him with a thoughtful expression, his eyes dark and intent but not in the way that Jaehwan would have liked. 

“Is there a way to make you feel safe?” he asked.

Jaehwan at least gave him the courtesy of thinking about the answer for a couple of seconds. “Probably not,” he said. 

Sanghyuk nodded, like the answer hadn’t disappointed or even surprised him. “Well,” he said. “Let me ask another question. What happened the last time someone tried to hurt you?” 

Jaehwan felt a shiver run down his spine. The question had been asked in such a low voice that for a moment Jaehwan could not quite believe that they were not tangled up together in a bed. He moved his hand from Sanghyuk’s shoulder to his chest, touching him through the thin material of his shirt. “You shot them,” he said. 

“Yes,” Sanghyuk said, so softly, the voice of a lover. “I did.” 

Jaehwan’s heart pounded in his chest. He was both aroused and unnerved and it was not a combination that he disliked. But the intensity in Sanghyuk’s eyes was doing odd things to his stomach and he did dislike that, so he turned his face away and looked out over the gardens until he had it under control.

He felt Sanghyuk’s lips brush the shell of his ear and when he spoke, his breath was very warm against the thin, sensitive skin behind Jaehwan’s ear. “If someone tried to hurt you, I would kill them for it. I’ve already done it once.” 

Jaehwan wrenched his face back around; their lips almost met. “You can’t say this stuff,” he said. He was trying so hard for the playful mood of earlier but the only way to describe his voice was loud. “We’ve only made out once.” 

Sanghyuk frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked. 

“I might not be good enough to be worth such promises,” Jaehwan said, and it was mostly innuendo but there was more there, an insecurity that he was not proud of. 

Sanghyuk grinned, a predatory grin. “We could make out again,” he suggested. “Then I’ll have more evidence to make a decision on.” 

Jaehwan opened his mouth to agree that yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea, but Sanghyuk’s mouth was already on his. Jaehwan’s observations of the first time had been correct: Sanghyuk was a fast learner. His hands, large and warm against Jaehwan’s sides, held him close, whilst his mouth practically ravished Jaehwan’s. He was not so much taking a liberty with this kiss as taking everything and the kitchen sink.

Jaehwan wrenched his mouth away and Sanghyuk chased it, catching his lips in another blistering kiss before Jaehwan managed to gasp out, “Someone is enthusiastic.” 

“One good point of my age,” Sanghyuk said, already with a slight pant in his voice. “Best to take advantage, don’t you think?” 

Jaehwan could think of a few good points of Sanghyuk’s youth that he was definitely going to take advantage of sometime in the future, but for now he just hummed an acknowledgement and kissed Sanghyuk again. He made it slower, wanting to enjoy this. He did not want it to be a sprint. 

Sanghyuk made a pleased noise between their mouths and then slowly, gently, moved them until Jaehwan was sitting back on the picnic blanket again. He had his arms around Sanghyuk’s neck and he honestly couldn’t remember when they had got there. Sanghyuk pressed him back, laying him out on the blanket, the ground hard underneath him. The air was warm but Jaehwan barely felt it against his overheated skin. 

Sanghyuk moved from his hands down to his elbows, bringing him closer. A second later he pulled away and sat up, wincing. Jaehwan felt a wave of worry wash over him, thinking that he had taken it too far too quickly. But Sanghyuk just held up his hand, looking grossed out. He’d put it in the hummus. 

Jaehwan burst into laughter, the first real laugh he’d had in weeks. Sanghyuk joined in after a minute. He felt something loosen inside, the tension he had held close slipping out of his grasp to freedom. It would be back, he knew that much, but laughing with Sanghyuk like this, it could be enough. It felt like it was enough. 

——

Wonshik woke up when the bed moved, the mattress dipping as Hongbin climbed off it and to his feet. He opened up one eye and squinted. He didn’t know what time it was, but it was late enough that the sun was out in full force, blasting through the unfortunate break in the curtains and landing on the bed in a long yellow panel. Wonshik didn’t care what time it was; it was too early for how late he’d been up the night before.

Hongbin had his back to the bed as he wriggled into a pair of boxers — not, Wonshik noticed, his own. Wonshik took a moment to admire the planes of his back, the broadness of Hongbin’s shoulders, which was surprising every time. He let his eyes track down to Hongbin’s narrow hips, the dimples at the base of his spine — and then he realised Hongbin was padding out of the room.

Wonshik propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. “Hey,” he said in a rasp, voice gone low with sleep. “Where are you going?”

Hongbin paused, throwing a surprised look over his shoulder. His face softened when he saw Wonshik, giving him a small smile. “Just the bathroom,” he said. “Go back to sleep.” 

Wonshik squinted at him and then collapsed back into the bed. His face mashed into the pillow. “Mrhghg,” he said, eyes already closed, feeling near sleep. He heard the door opening and shutting, the handle clicking into place. Then there was nothing but silence.

He dozed; he must have done, because when he next opened his eyes, the panel of light across the bed was in a different position and when he put his hand out, the spot where Hongbin had been sleeping was cold. He attempted to shake off the sleepiness and didn’t quite manage it. He did force himself into a sitting position, where he sat, for a long few seconds, yawning and scrubbing a hand through his hair. 

Since Hongbin had shamelessly stolen his boxers, he was forced to find something else to wear for the journey out into the apartment proper. He could have just gone out naked but he lived in fear that Jaehwan would randomly decide to stay over and neither of them needed the trauma of Jaehwan seeing him naked. Wonshik had preempted the possibility by telling Hongbin that his roommate travelled a lot for work and wouldn’t be around very much, but sometimes came home without warning. Hongbin, for his part, seemed to actually prefer wearing clothes where he could, which Wonshik found a little odd. 

He found a pair of sweatpants half-kicked under the bed which he pulled on. The apartment was quiet but Hongbin’s shoes and coat were still by the door, and Wonshik followed the quiet sounds of movement to the kitchen, where Hongbin stood in front of the open fridge, frowning into the interior, whilst the coffee maker burbled quietly beside him. 

He didn’t give any indication that he knew Wonshik was there, but when Wonshik pressed up against his back and boxed him in against the kitchen counter, he didn’t show surprise in any way. Instead he made a pleased sound and pressed back, his bare back to Wonshik’s bare chest. Wonshik put a hand against his hip and kept the other pressed to the counter.

“You got up,” he said, unable to keep the petulant note out of his voice. 

“I had to pee,” Hongbin said. He covered the hand against his hip with his own and let his head rest against Wonshik’s shoulder. Wonshik took his weight, feeling warm and comfortable. 

“You didn’t come back though,” he said, unable to keep from complaining. He dropped a kiss to the side of Hongbin’s neck and smiled when Hongbin shivered. “Why didn’t you come back to bed?” 

“I’m hungry,” Hongbin said. He gestured to the coffee. “I’m making coffee.”

“You’re always making coffee,” Wonshik grumbled. He stepped back and Hongbin turned and draped his arms across Wonshik’s shoulders. Wonshik always got a kick out of that: on girls the move looked cute and flirty, provided they could reach. On Hongbin, it just put the muscles of his arms in Wonshik’s line of sight, which he would never complain about. He leaned in for a kiss, keeping it gentle except for the slight nip at Hongbin’s bottom lip. “Come back to bed, I’ll order us something in. I took the day off especially for this.” 

Hongbin smiled at him, eyes bright with affection. Seeing that made Wonshik feel warm all the way through, and he couldn’t resist kissing Hongbin again, slow as molasses. He felt Hongbin melt against him, going deliciously pliant.

After that, it didn’t take much to get Hongbin to follow him back into the bedroom. In the few weeks since they’d slept together for their second time, Wonshik felt like he couldn’t get enough, and Hongbin seemed to feel the same way, if his constantly roaming hands were anything to go by. Wonshik had always suffered from that combination of high stamina and high libido, but this craving to keep touching Hongbin was starting to feel like a void that could not possibly be filled. 

Once they were in the bedroom, Hongbin shoved at Wonshik’s sweatpants, not breaking away from Wonshik’s mouth. Wonshik kicked them off and then shut the door behind them: the apartment, it turned out, was empty, but that might not stay the case. Hongbin lay back on the bed and tugged Wonshik on top of him. Wonshik’s head spun by how keyed up he felt already, hard so quickly he barely knew what to do with himself. 

He pressed Hongbin into the mattress, their legs tangled together, and kissed him until Hongbin was panting into his mouth. “You want—” Wonshik asked, barely even knowing what he was saying.

“Touch me,” Hongbin said breathlessly. He pressed Wonshik’s hand to the front of his borrowed boxer shorts, where his erection pressed firmly against the material. “Fucking touch me.” 

Wonshik chuckled and nuzzled at Hongbin’s cheek as he helped him yank the boxers down over his hips. Hongbin kicked them away with a frantic motion, and there was a brief moment where they got caught around his ankles. Wonshik distracted him by wrapping his hand around Hongbin’s cock, his fingers just tight enough.

Hongbin said, “Oh _oh_ ,” and jerked up into the touch. Wonshik moved his hand in lazy strokes, his other hand pressing down on Hongbin’s hip in an attempt at holding him steady that mostly worked. Hongbin at least got the message, and didn’t fuck up into Wonshik’s hand, although he couldn’t stop the slight twitches of his hips. 

Wonshik jerked him off slowly, taking his time despite the fact that he knew Hongbin liked it fast and hard in the morning, when he was still a little out of it. He liked to feel the climax coming like a freight train, and usually Wonshik was happy to give it to him like that. He would probably never get bored of fucking a sleep-warm, loose limbed Hongbin. But he had taken the day off today especially for this, and he wasn’t going to rush a minute of it. 

He thumbed gently at the slit along the head of Hongbin’s cock, and Hongbin said his name like he was a member of the faithful praising God. Wonshik felt punchdrunk hearing his name out of Hongbin’s mouth like that. He leaned down to press his open mouth against Hongbin’s shoulder, and in that short moment of letting his guard down, Hongbin grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed so he landed on his back with an _oof_.

“You’re ridiculous,” Hongbin growled, as he scrambled on top of Wonshik, knees bracketing Wonshik’s hips. “Did you want me to beg, Wonshik, was that it? You wanted me to beg for you to give it to me harder?” 

He dropped his weight a little and rolled his hips slowly; their cocks slid against each other and Wonshik choked at the feeling, the sudden friction. He grabbed at Hongbin’s waist, one hand only managing to get Hongbin’s thigh, holding so hard the skin was pressed white. Hongbin flashed him an especially wicked smile, rolling his hips again. 

“What if I want you to beg,” Hongbin said, a slight pant in his voice. “Would you do that, for me, Wonshik, _baby_ , would you beg if I wanted you to?” 

Wonshik arched up, meeting Hongbin on the down thrust, and heard Hongbin gasp in pleasure. “I’d beg,” Wonshik said, voice like a smoke-filled rasp. “I’d do anything you asked me to.” 

“Don’t give me ideas,” Hongbin said. He started up a steady pace, moving above Wonshik with that grace that had been so appealing to Wonshik from the very beginning. Wonshik met him at every turn, his plans for slow and steady thrown out of the window now that he was faced with this reality of Hongbin in control, setting the pace to his own desires. 

It was so much; it was too much. This was more like the Hongbin of their first time together, the one who moved like he didn’t have a care in the world. The one who was loud and confident, the one who had screamed Wonshik’s name. He looked down at Wonshik for a moment, and there was something in his eyes, something fragile. This Hongbin did not have the luxury of knowing that he wouldn’t see Wonshik again. This Hongbin would be remembered.

Wonshik put his arm around Hongbin’s waist and pushed himself upright with his other arm, bringing their bodies closer together so that Wonshik could kiss him, hard. Hongbin moaned into his mouth, hips moving frantically now, chasing his release. Wonshik reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around their cocks, made slippery with precome. 

Hongbin clutched at his shoulders, scraping his nails across Wonshik’s shoulder blades. “Wonshik,” he gasped. “Wonshik, come on, please—”

“Yes,” breathed Wonshik, his arm around Hongbin’s waist hauling them into closer contact, feeling that building pressure in his lower stomach. “Want to feel you, want to—” 

Hongbin came with a cry, grinding his hips down against Wonshik’s. Wonshik stroked him through it, feeling so close himself, every passing second bringing him closer and closer, Hongbin’s body twitching against his as he struggled to come down. 

For a moment Wonshik teetered on the edge, then Hongbin’s hand touched his cock in the spaces where his own hand didn’t, and Wonshik came, muffling his shout against Hongbin’s mouth. Even after he let go of his own cock, Hongbin kept touching him, until Wonshik had to lift his hand away, shivering and oversensitive. 

For a few moments they sat together, Hongbin in his lap, foreheads resting against one another. Then Hongbin pulled away and flopped down onto the bed, chest still rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. Wonshik lay down next to him and relaxed into the sheets for a moment, his limbs feeling languid. Then he half-rolled over and felt down the side of the bed until he found an old t-shirt, only the sleeve visible. He used that to clean them both up, wiping the come from his stomach and Hongbin’s thighs, before balling the shirt up and tossing it at the laundry basket. He missed by a mile.

Hongbin laughed, turning into Wonshik’s body, one of his hands pillowed under his cheek. Wonshik looked at him, really looked at him, his face so close and so beautiful, the happiness in his smile, feeling the same emotion in every part of his body. Wonshik had not realised that happiness could even feel like this: he’d thought he was happy before but it paled in comparison. He had not known what he was missing until now. 

“I love you.” 

The words were said without him even realising it. For a good second or two, he wondered who had said them, and then he realised it had been him. He had not meant to, but his mouth had made the decision completely without the engagement of his brain. 

Hongbin had gone very still. The smile had dropped off his face entirely. Wonshik felt sick anxiety sweep over him, his heartbeat in his throat choking him. He thought, for a moment, of denying it, of pretending like he hadn’t meant it — but he had meant it. He had meant it for a while now. 

Hongbin wet his bottom lip and looked away. His whole body was tense, like he was fighting the urge to flee. “I heard,” he said, voice very brittle, “that you should never believe anything a man says an hour before sex and three hours after.” 

Wonshik swallowed. He brushed Hongbin’s hair from his forehead, not commenting on the half-flinch Hongbin made at the touch. “I mean it,” he said softly. “It’s not something I just thought of.”

Hongbin had his head to the side, his eyes on the curtains pulled haphazardly across the windows. He did not glance at Wonshik, and with each passing second he seemed to get tenser, his shoulders slowly raising up around his ears. 

“Hongbin,” said Wonshik. “Please, could you look at me?” He put his fingers against Hongbin’s chin and after a moment of resistance, Hongbin let his head be turned, so that Wonshik could look at him the eyes. The look on Hongbin’s face was beyond Wonshik’s comprehension. He did not look angry, like Wonshik had thought he would. He looked— some relative of scared. He didn’t look away this time; he seemed almost like he couldn’t.

With Hongbin’s eyes now pinned to his own, Wonshik touched his shoulder, trying to encourage him into relaxing. The sickness was still there in the pit of his stomach, this aching fear that he’d ruined everything— not just this moment, not just this morning together, but all of it. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone. I love you, Hongbin. And I know that you— you probably don’t feel that way right now. I understand that. But you have a right to know how I feel. And this is how I feel.” 

“I’m.” Hongbin inhaled shakily; Wonshik saw his chest shuddering. Then he reached up, wrapping his arms around Wonshik’s shoulders, and pulled him down so he could bury his face in Wonshik’s neck. His breath was warm against Wonshik’s skin. Wonshik thought maybe he was hiding his tears, such a move suggested it, but although Hongbin was trembling fit to break apart, he did not seem to be crying. 

The anxiety and sickness had eased off, leaving something familiar, yet not, pooling in his chest. It felt, in many ways, like those moments after a fight, when he realised that, despite everything, all the aches and bruises and blood, he was still alive. He felt flooded with that same bright, savage joy. He had said the words and Hongbin was still here. Wonshik put his arms around him and pulled him close. He put his mouth against Hongbin’s hair, soft and still a little damp with sweat, and breathed him in. 

——

Sanghyuk held the car door for Hakyeon, his face placid as he scanned the floor of the parking structure they were in. They’d only been able to find space on the uppermost floor, three stories up, and without a roof they were bared to the blinding sunlight, the overwhelming expanse of blue sky. Summer was officially here judging by the temperature, the cicadas screaming from the trees lining the street. The heat radiated up off the concrete in waves. There was sweat already breaking out on the back of Hakyeon’s neck. All those years of of learning to control his own responses and he’d never managed to do anything about sweating.

Sanghyuk did not even shield his eyes from the unreasonably bright sun like Hakyeon did, nor did he react to the heat. He let Hakyeon step to the side and then shut the door and locked the car, each movement smooth and practised. He looked, Hakyeon was pleased to note, like he belonged in this role.

Hakyeon squinted against that sun as he walked across the parking lot to the stairs. It was moderately full at this time of day, early afternoon on a Thursday. He had chosen the time as carefully as he had chosen the restaurant attached to the lot one floor down by a short, enclosed bridge, in a modern monstrosity of a building comprised of glass and metal that Hakyeon only ever came to when he had business meetings with people he would like to impress. The food was gimmicky and the portions practically non-existent. Also, incredibly expensive. It was a particular kind of power play that always worked well: I have so much money, it seemed to say, that I can afford to waste a lot of it on a single oyster on a leaf of romaine lettuce. 

It was also highly likely to be fairly empty at this time in the middle of the week.

Sanghyuk fell into position, to Hakyeon’s left and a step behind, or above, as the case was. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to have Choi Jungwoon meet us at the house?” he asked, quietly enough that no one around would be able to hear. There was no one else around, but the habit was good. 

Hakyeon straightened his jacket as he stepped out of the stairwell and through the pair of glass doors that led onto the short bridge. “Inviting him to the house would have been too big of a deal,” Hakyeon said. Tinted blue glass on three sides and concrete underfoot, the sweltering sun was turning the bridge into a greenhouse and Hakyeon desperately wanted to loosen his tie. “It would draw too much attention, too, from people we don’t want paying attention.”

“And having a meal in public with the head of the Choi family won’t do that anyway?” The sardonic tone was heavy in Sanghyuk’s voice but when Hakyeon shot him a look over his shoulder, Sanghyuk’s face was blank, eyes scanning the street below them, as if someone might take a shot at Hakyeon through the glass. It was a low possibility.

“People have business meetings all the time,” Hakyeon said, picking up the pace, less out of fear and more to get into the blissfully air conditioned building. “We do work with the Choi family, their business endeavours complement our own.” That was perfectly true, and Sanghyuk already knew it. Taekwoon had taught Sanghyuk everything he needed to know about the family business as much as he had taught him how to fight and how to defend Hakyeon.

Sanghyuk sidled around him to hold the door to the restaurant open. He managed to make the move seem entirely sincere, although Hakyeon felt, for a brief moment, like laughing. “Why didn’t you ask Taekwoon to come?” Sanghyuk asked. 

That made Hakyeon’s stomach lurch a little. He frowned at Sanghyuk. “Did you not want to come?”

The door to the restaurant swung shut but Hakyeon paused for a moment in the lobby, waiting for Sanghyuk to answer. He had not thought that Sanghyuk would not want to come. Sanghyuk shrugged. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that Taekwoon is usually the one who comes to these more important things with you.” 

“You came to the dinner party with me,” Hakyeon pointed out.

“That’s a bit different to coming to a meeting with another family head,” Sanghyuk said. There was a tone in his voice which was decidedly _teenager exasperated with mom_ and it shouldn’t have amused Hakyeon as much as it did. 

“I thought it would be good for you to get some experience in these kinds of situations,” Hakyeon said. He turned towards the open arch of the entryway to the restaurant and caught the eye of the host. Hakyeon didn’t know if Sanghyuk was satisfied with that explanation, but he said nothing as the host bustled up to them, already bowing in deference. Hakyeon wondered what it was like to have a job that required nothing more than standing around anticipating other people’s needs. Then he realised with a sinking feeling that that was very much what Taekwoon’s primary job was.

He was shown to a circular table in the corner of the room, one which looked out on the entirety of the dining floor. Choi Jungwoon was already there, seated with his back to the wall, his line of sight able to take in everything that happened out in the restaurant. It was the prime spot, the safest spot. His second in command, Dabin, sat next to him. She was a small, mousy woman who liked to cut out tongues with the blades she kept in her hair piece. Hakyeon could not say that he liked her, but he sure as hell showed her respect. 

He took the seat opposite Jungwoon. It presented his back to the entire room, made sure that he had no way of knowing if a threat approached. Jungwoon had left the seat empty on purpose, to see what Hakyeon would do. Hakyeon acted like this was a perfectly reasonable position to be in. It also had the handy bonus of demonstrating his complete trust in Sanghyuk.

“Cha Hakyeon,” said Jungwoon smoothly, pleasantly. “You are looking well.” 

Jungwoon was in his forties but he looked a little younger, his hair still naturally dark and thick. He was not especially handsome, but he could not be called ugly either, and he was currently on his third wife, a woman half his age and not much older than his teenage son. The boy studied in America. It was not uncommon for sons of families to study abroad, where they were theoretically safer and less inclined to cause any mischief that would come down directly on the family. Hakyeon often wondered if his uncles wished he’d been sent away. 

“As are you,” Hakyeon said. A waiter leaned over and poured a glass of wine for him, to match Jungwoon’s. Apparently he’d taken the chance to order a bottle for them. Hakyeon could not drink it. He touched the waiter’s arm. “A glass of water, if you could.” The waiter nodded and rushed to comply. 

Jungwoon picked up his wine glass and took a sip. He glanced at Sanghyuk and then back to Hakyeon. “Who is this?” he asked. 

“Sanghyuk,” said Hakyeon. “My bodyguard.” 

“What happened to Taekwoon?” Jungwoon said. There was a hint of concern in his voice and it was difficult to tell if it was real or feigned. 

“He had other things to take care of,” Hakyeon said airily. Actually, what Taekwoon had was a day off, forced upon him by Hakyeon a week ago, so that he would be out of the way for this meeting. But the implication for Jungwoon was obvious: this meeting wasn’t important to bring the household members that actually mattered. 

Jungwoon smiled, not nicely. “I took the liberty of ordering for us,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.” 

Hakyeon fought down a flash of annoyance. Arriving second had given Jungwoon the upper hand, and if he was not careful, Jungwoon would use that momentum to turn the whole meeting to his advantage. Hakyeon wanted Jungwoon to _think_ he had the advantage, but he did not want to actually lose control over what was happening. He knew that, as the youngest head of the city’s families, he was viewed as inexperienced, potentially easy to manipulate. 

He was also viewed as a snake in the grass that could never be trusted. The mythology around a person didn’t have to make sense. 

But Jungwoon’s gesture was annoying, nonetheless. He would have no idea what Hakyeon’s tastes were like, and Hakyeon did not appreciate choices being taken out of his hands. He never had done. He slid his gaze along to Sanghyuk, who nodded slightly, accepting that he would have to play the role of food taster.

“Of course,” Hakyeon said breezily, after a pause. “I am always happy to take recommendations from those in the know.” The menu at this place was, at least, short enough that Hakyeon knew it by heart, and there should be no unexpected surprises. “Eating out is always a nice experience, is it not?”

“I try to do it often,” Jungwoon said. “You never know what you might find in this city.” 

And so the mindless small talk continued, through an appetizer of foie gras and scallops, and a main course of duck breast. Hakyeon asked after Jungwoon’s son, partially polite, partially reminding him that even so far away, his son was vulnerable. Jungwoon sang the praises of his new wife and overly-innocently asked if Hakyeon had his eye on anyone for marriage. Hakyeon did not let his smile falter at any time. 

The food was delicious, although not entirely to Hakyeon’s taste. His preference elsewhere ran expensive — he liked finely made suits, vintage wines, cars with engines that purred. But when it came to food, he preferred traditional. He liked food that reminded him of the meals Taekwoon’s mother used to make for them when they were younger. 

Sanghyuk seemed to enjoy his food, though, and the morsels off Hakyeon’s plate that he was required to taste as well. Undeterred even by the low possibility of poison. But then Hakyeon had not, as of yet, found a food that Sanghyuk did not like. It was a good trait in someone who did not seem like he would ever stop growing taller. It made it easier for Hakyeon to keep him fed. 

Once the food and the pleasantries were out of the way, however, Jungwoon lay his utensils down and said, “Now then. What is it that I can do for you, Cha.” 

Hakyeon swirled the wine in his glass like he was thinking about drinking it. Jungwoon had drunk most of the wine bottle, although he showed no sign of it. Nobody had thought to ask for Sanghyuk’s ID when they’d poured him a glass but it sat untouched in front of him. Taekwoon would literally kill him if he drank on the job. 

He put the glass down again, careful not to make a noise against the table. “You assume there’s something that you can do for me,” he said. 

Jungwoon laughed. “There’s always something. You wouldn’t have bothered to call me out here if there wasn’t something you’re after.” 

“Perhaps,” Hakyeon said mildly, “I wanted to catch up with an old friend.” 

Jungwoon’s laugh this time was so loud that a few people in the restaurant actually looked over at them. “We’re not friends.”

Hakyeon smiled. “No, we’re not.” He pushed the wine glass away, resting his fingertips against the table. He did not turn them palm up in a signal of openness, which he knew Jungwoon would take note of. “But perhaps we could be.” 

Jungwoon forgot himself enough to look surprised at that. He’d probably thought that Hakyeon have asked him here for some monetary transaction, or to exchange some property. “How do you mean?” 

Hakyeon hummed under his breath, a soft sound barely audible above the quiet chatter in the restaurant. “Perhaps there are things that the Cha family can do for you,” he said. “Perhaps there are things that the Choi family could do for us.” 

“That’s not friendship,” Jungwoon said. “That’s tit for tat.” 

Hakyeon shrugged. “Call it whatever you want.” 

Jungwoon’s eyes narrowed. He was right to be suspicious. Hakyeon showed Jungwoon respect because of his position but the Choi family was relatively small beans compared to the Cha and Lee families and everyone knew it. The Choi family rarely encroached in Cha territory because they knew they would be destroyed in a head to head battle. The Cha family left the Chois alone mostly because it wasn’t worth the hassle of starting anything. It would seem unlikely that they could want anything from the Choi family. 

“What are you planning?” Jungwoon asked.

Hakyeon blinked slowly at him. “I’m not planning anything.” 

“Don’t play coy with me, Cha.” Jungwoon moved his empty plate out of the way so he could lean forward on the table, closer into Hakyeon’s space. Too close. “I’m not one of your dumb idiot uncles, too arrogant to see what was happening right under their noses. I won’t have the wool so easily pulled over my eyes. Now what the fuck are you up to?” 

Beside Hakyeon, Sanghyuk sat still, his hands also on the table where they would not be hampered by the tablecloth. It was probable that only Hakyeon could see the signs of tension in his body, those uncomfortable hints he gave away. It was his first time at a meeting with someone who could get away with speaking to Hakyeon like this, and even despite his training, the high emotions were getting to him. Dabin was still picking at the remnants of her duck, seemingly disinterested in what was happening around her. But Hakyeon had seen her throw a dagger into a man’s back at a moment’s notice, without losing that expression of boredom, so it was worth keeping an eye on her. 

Hakyeon settled back into his seat, making a show of being comfortable. As he did so, he brushed his hand against Sanghyuk’s elbow, a reminder to relax; being so tense in a sticky situation could actually mean his body would simply freeze up. Slowly, in increments so that nobody else would see it happening, Sanghyuk began to loosen up. 

“I am simply making sure that both of our interests remain alike,” Hakyeon said. “If anything were to change in the future, I’m sure that you’d like to think that you had— well, not my family as a friend, but at least you would not have us as enemies.” 

Jungwoon’s mind was obviously racing, his eyes moving across Hakyeon’s face, trying desperately to put two and two together. It was just unfortunate that he was most likely missing entire chunks of both the twos. After a few seconds his eyes lit up. “I have heard,” he said, “that there have been some incidents recently with the Lee family coming into your territory. These things are connected, yes?” 

“If they were,” Hakyeon said, putting a little humour into his voice, “I certainly wouldn’t tell you.” 

“So what you really want,” Jungwoon said in a soft voice, almost a purr, “is Choi manpower to fight a war against the Lee family.” 

Hakyeon couldn’t help it, he laughed so sincerely that even Dabin looked up from her plate. “Don’t be ridiculous, Choi Jungwoon. I have no interest in using your thugs for anything. I hardly need more manpower than what I have.” 

Jungwoon also settled back in his chair, making his own show of being comfortable again. “Information, then,” he said. Hakyeon didn’t reply, but he did let his eyes meet Jungwoon’s as the silence stretched out. Eventually, Jungwoon said, more seriously now, “Information on what?” 

Hakyeon raised an eyebrow. “Not until you let me know what you want in return.” 

Jungwoon glanced at Dabin, who rolled her eyes. It was such a disdainful expression that Hakyeon almost flinched. Jungwoon turned back and said, “You’re proposing an alliance. How do you propose we solidify such a thing? I have nieces you could marry, I suppose, but I imagine that’s not particularly appealing to you.” 

Hakyeon ignored the jibe with practised ease. “You could call it a peace treaty, if that would make you more amenable? Mutually assured friendship.” 

“I believe the saying is ‘mutually assured destruction’,” Jungwoon said.

Hakyeon smiled, all teeth. “Quite.” He stood up from the table, dropping his napkin next to his plate. Sanghyuk rose too, immediately, like he’d anticipated the movement. “Think over my offer, Jungwoon. There must be something that the Cha family can provide for you. I would so hate for us to find ourselves at odds.” 

Jungwoon let him walk away, although Hakyeon could feel his eyes on his back the entire time. He stopped by the host on his way out the door, paying for the meal in its entirety, another part of the game. Jungwoon had purposely chosen the most expensive items on the menu. Hakyeon left a ridiculously high tip, also, in silent apology to the waiter who had been forced to hover anxiously around them for the duration of the meal. 

He stepped out of the restaurant into the same enclosed bridge, the sun seemingly in the same position in the sky despite the hour spent inside. It was still too fucking hot as they crossed to the lot again, and it was a relief to step briefly back into the cool shade of the stairwell. 

Sanghyuk had been silent up until that point but he spoke then. “Why would we want an alliance with the Choi family?” 

Hakyeon sighed and answered although he could have simply ignored the question. “Because if things change, I might need them.” 

“What things could change,” Sanghyuk asked, obviously confused. 

This, Hakyeon did ignore. Somehow it felt even hotter on the top floor of the parking lot, with nothing to cast any cover, not even tinted glass. Hakyeon set off for the car, wanting the air conditioned interior. In his peripheral, Sanghyuk stiffened. Then he grabbed Hakyeon’s upper arm hard enough to bruise and ripped him backwards with such force that Hakyeon sprawled onto the ground. He landed heavily on his shoulder, his reflexes only catching up with him in time to keep his head from hitting the pavement. And as he hit the ground a gunshot rang out, then more, rapid and loud enough that Hakyeon ducked his head and covered his ears. He could see nothing but Sanghyuk’s shoes, tires and the undercarriages of cars, the asphalt he was laying on. His ears were ringing with the chaos, with gunshots and shouting. Hakyeon could see feet from his vantage point now, skittering around the cars like rats. 

Hands fastened around his shoulders from behind very suddenly— not Sanghyuk’s— Sanghyuk was in front of him. An arm slipped around Hakyeon’s neck before he could process that he needed to struggle, and he was dragged stumbling to his feet. Sanghyuk was there and then he wasn’t, vanished from view as Hakyeon was pulled roughly backwards between two vehicles too tall to see over. He grabbed at the arm around his neck, blocking enough of his air to make him gasp, and tried to gain traction on the ground that kept skidding out from under his shoes. He could not faint. He could not.

“Hakyeon!” Sanghyuk yelled, from somewhere to Hakyeon’s right, out of sight. There was no breath in Hakyeon to scream; he could only manage a strangled gasp that was drowned out by a new volley of gunshots, by an answering cry of pain from Sanghyuk. Hakyeon’s heart leapt into his throat and he struggled as best he could, hands grabbing at the cars slipping by him on either side, fingertips unable to catch on the smooth paint, the glass of windows. Then his left hand met only air, and he was pushed into the open side of a van.

“No,” he gasped out, and managed to grasp the edges of the door, giving himself enough leverage to finally push back, to turn just enough to drive his elbow into his captor’s stomach, as hard as he could manage. 

The man let out a grunt and loosened his hold, just enough that Hakyeon jerked free, pushing himself away from that open door, that waiting trap. He heaved in air, regaining his bearings— ringing quiet, muffled sounds of scuffle— the man who’d been holding him raised a gun towards Hakyeon’s face—

Hakyeon dove for it, grabbing the man’s wrist in both hands, and turning his body out of the line of fire. The gun went off when Hakyeon yanked the man’s wrist around, as hard as he could, feeling smaller bones grind as he did so. With a cry of pain, the man dropped the gun, and Hakyeon kicked it away so it skittered under a nearby car. 

The man backhanded him, hard enough that Hakyeon stumbled back against the side of the van, dazed. The pain was dazzling, and his mouth filled with blood, pouring down the back of his throat from his nose, making him gag. There were more gunshots, then screaming, so animal it sounded almost inhuman. Hakyeon cringed away from the sound, unable to focus through it, unable to decipher if it was Sanghyuk or not—

Something slashed across his forehead, blood streaming down his face into his eyes nearly before the white-hot pain even registered. They were going to take him by any means, Hakyeon realized. Even if they had to nearly butcher him to do it. The sweltering sunlight glinted off the bloody metal. His attacker struck out at him with the switchblade again and Hakyeon unthinkingly knocked his arm away so that the blade cut into the sleeve of his jacket. In desperation, he flailed out, and struck the man on the side of the head with the inside of his wrist. His heavy watch cut into his skin on the impact, and the man fell to the ground, blood on his temple. 

The switchblade clattered on the pavement, Hakyeon’s blood splattering off it in small drops. Hakyeon dropped to his knees, scraping his knuckles against the ground as he snatched the blade up. Already the man was rolling over, groaning, and Hakyeon jammed the blade into his throat, then ripped it back out. Blood raged out, the man grabbing at his neck, and Hakyeon dropped the switchblade and stumbled away. His hands slid against the side of a car, slick with blood, and he couldn’t see. He swiped a hand over his face, wiping blood away from his eyes, but more simply poured out. 

“Sanghyuk?” he called desperately, making his way around a vehicle, and even through the haze in his eyes, he could see carnage, fallen men in black jackets. 

Sanghyuk was kneeling on top of one, and as Hakyeon started towards him, he tried to lurch to his feet and then fell to the side instead. His chest was heaving, breath loud and ragged in the sudden silence. When Hakyeon got closer he could see that it wasn’t the blood in his eyes: Sanghyuk’s previously white shirt was red, matted to his skin. 

“Fuck,” Sanghyuk gasped. Hakyeon went to his knees beside him and caught sight of the body Sanghyuk had been kneeling over. He looked away and did not look back at it. What had once been a face was now nothing but pulp. Sanghyuk dropped his gun, covered in blood and viscera, on the ground, so he could cradle his right arm with his left.

“Where are you hurt?” Hakyeon asked, hands hovering. His instinct was to check for wounds but he didn’t know what was wrong and he didn’t want to cause anymore pain. Or waste the time. He wanted to get them out of here, casting nervous glances around, but all seemed still now. 

“Jus’ my shoulder,” Sanghyuk said, barely more than a grunt, voice rough with pain. “You’re bleeding, what—”

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon said firmly. “It looks worse than it is.” 

For some reason, that made Sanghyuk start laughing, a note of hysteria threaded through it. “Fuck,” he said again. “Taekwoon is going to kill me.” 

“We have to get you home,” Hakyeon said. He was trying to focus, to figure out what he needed to do; there were steps that needed to be taken when things like this happened, but it had been so long since the last time, and he could not concentrate. All he wanted was to make sure Sanghyuk was safe. 

He hooked Sanghyuk’s left arm over his shoulder and together they managed to at least get upright, although no one could accuse Sanghyuk of actually standing. Throughout the process he made no noise except a single low moan of pain, but when Hakyeon looked at him, he was pale and sweaty, and Hakyeon’s hand around his waist to keep him up could find little purchase. Sanghyuk was as slick with blood as Hakyeon. 

He hobbled them over to the car. Sanghyuk had the keys and Hakyeon had to paw around in his pocket for them so he could unlock the doors. He left Sanghyuk leaning against the car so he could open up the back door, and then said, “Get in there and lay down.”

He expected Sanghyuk to protest but he didn’t look like he was capable of doing anything. He flopped onto the backseat with another groan of pain and Hakyeon had to make him move his legs because he couldn’t get the door closed. Then Hakyeon clambered into the driver’s seat and scrambled in the glovebox for the gun there. The relief he felt when it was in his hand was almost overwhelming. He made himself lay it on the passenger seat, where he could easily grab it. Then he turned the engine on, and peeled the fuck out of that place. His hands nearly slipped on the wheel in his haste.

He drove for a minute or two, well over the speed limit, before things started filtering through to him, realisations springing onto him as basic thought processes came back to him. He should call the house. He should call Taekwoon. Someone had tried to kidnap him. Someone had hurt Sanghyuk, who was quiet in the back unless Hakyeon took a corner too sharply. Someone had tried to kidnap him and the man who’d laid hands on him was dead at his hand. 

He held onto that thought for a few more seconds, turning it over his mind as he turned down a side-street to avoid a red light up ahead. The face of his watch was shattered, delicate glass falling out. Blood on the metal. He’d left the switchblade behind but other pieces had come with him. 

Hakyeon waited for something, some emotion. Nothing came. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline, keeping him disconnected, but he doubted he would care later, either. He never cared when the people who tried to hurt him died. He’d never cared about the people Taekwoon had to kill over the years. He’d only ever cared for what it did to Taekwoon. 

Now, he worried a little about what it might have done to Sanghyuk. 

He took his eyes off the road for just long enough to punch at the dashboard display and get it to call Jaehwan. It went straight to his voicemail and Hakyeon cursed, because it meant that Jaehwan was probably in his basement office and wouldn’t be reachable. Impatiently, Hakyeon wiped at his face, chasing more blood away. It was slowing, at the least. Head wounds bled like a bitch. 

“Sanghyuk,” he called, unnerved by how quiet it was back there. Sanghyuk was big and so the wound probably wasn’t life-threatening; he had a lot of blood to spare. But that didn’t mean the panic wasn’t real. “You okay back there?” 

The reply took a moment or two to come and it had a strange, bitten off quality to it. “I’m fine, yeah.” 

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” There was no reply. Hakyeon said, sharply, “Sanghyuk!”

“Yes,” said Sanghyuk. His voice was barely there now. “I will, Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon was not reassured in the slightest. He jabbed again at the dash and called Wonshik this time, who answered almost immediately, with a cheerful, “Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Are you at the house?” Hakyeon asked. For a moment he heard his own voice like Wonshik must be hearing it: panicked and breathy, a little higher than normal.

There was a beat, Wonshik taking all that in. “Yes, I am,” he said, his voice more serious now, gone deeper. 

“Get someone to come meet me at the door,” Hakyeon said. “A few people in fact. Go get Jaehwan too. We’ve— Sanghyuk’s been shot.” 

“Jesus fuck,” said Wonshik. Hakyeon heard the sounds of him moving suddenly, springing into action; his clothes rustling over the line, the sound of a door opening. “Is he—” 

“He’s not going to die and you can tell Jaehwan that,” Hakyeon said, firmly. “But he’s in a bad way and we need to get him down to the med bay as soon as possible. I’m almost home but Wonshik, I need you to go to Western Boulevard, there’s a mess to clean up there.” 

“What kind of mess?” Wonshik asked, and then snapped at someone at his end, muffled orders to get a car ready, to go grab Jaehwan from his office. Whoever it was obviously ran off to do so, as Wonshik came back. “To be handled in house or do we need the law involved?” 

“We’ll need the police,” Hakyeon said. Fuck, he hated having to rely on law enforcement at times like this. He had enough of the local police in his pocket that it wasn’t likely to backfire on him, but it usually meant that they demanded even more in return. The chief of this section of the city already had a second house paid for by Hakyeon’s money, what more could he need? 

“What _happened_?” Wonshik asked.

“I can’t say, not over this line. I’ll explain later.” Hakyeon pulled into the street that the house was on, the tires screeching with the turn, and saw a couple of well dressed women jump in shock. “I’m almost home. You’ll have to hurry, Wonshik, things were bad there.”

“Do you want me to call Taekwoon?” 

Even just the thought of Taekwoon felt like a balm right then. He knew that Taekwoon would want to be there, to oversee all of the clean up, to make sure Sanghyuk was okay. And he should have maybe called Taekwoon immediately, but he was scared that he would cry on the phone if he did so. And he was afraid of keeping Taekwoon as a too integral part of this routine. He should be able to clear things up himself. 

But he was frightened and he was weak, and so he said, “Call him when you get there and tell him. Give us a chance to get Sanghyuk sorted before he comes in.” 

If Wonshik thought that request was strange, he didn’t say so. He said, “Okay,” and hung up. A moment later, Hakyeon came to the front gates. He stopped only because he had to. The guard there peered in at him and then immediately paled. 

“Sir—” he said. 

“I’m fine,” Hakyeon snapped. “Open the gates.” 

The guard did so and Hakyeon drove through up to the house, where Wonshik was waiting with a couple of other guys, the older ones who could be trusted in a situation like this. Hakyeon stopped at the bottom of the front steps and Wonshik took them three at a time to meet him. He pulled open the car door and said, “Holy fuck, Hakyeon, is that your blood?” 

“Probably,” said Hakyeon tiredly. “Sanghyuk’s in the back, help him?” 

Wonshik stared at him for a moment longer and then moved to help one of the other guys, supporting Sanghyuk as he struggled out of the car. For a moment he was worryingly floppy, like he’d lost consciousness, but then he seemed to come to. 

The front doors banged open and Jaehwan appeared. He met Hakyeon’s eyes first and then looked at Sanghyuk, being helped up the stairs. The stricken look on his face made Hakyeon want to throw up. Instead, he waved off the hands offered to him, squared his shoulders, and climbed the stairs himself. 

——

Taekwoon had been in a coffee shop when Jaehwan called him. He’d been trying out a thing called _normal life_ , where it was perfectly expected for him to sit for a couple of hours drinking coffee in a place with soft, pleasant music and people to watch, and he had time to read the book he’d actually meant to read back in college.

It had been pretty fucking boring, to be honest. 

But he’d have preferred that over Jaehwan telling him _someone attacked Hakyeon_. He’d have taken an afternoon of being bored in a coffee shop over the panic and guilt that had threatened to drown him when he realised that he had not been there to stop what had happened. The entire drive home had been spent in a pitch of anxiety that he had not felt since he was a teenager. 

When he burst into the med bay, Jaehwan was crouched down looking into a cupboard so Taekwoon had a perfect view of Hakyeon sitting on one of the beds. He was covered in blood, hair matted to his forehead, the collar of his shirt sodden with it. Taekwoon felt his body go cold, ice flushing through his veins. He paused for a moment in the doorway, arrested by the sight, the horror of it.

Hakyeon’s eyes had been shut but when Taekwoon came in the door he blinked them open. He saw Taekwoon and his shoulders slumped. His face crumpled. He held out a hand for Taekwoon.

Taekwoon rushed to him, forgetting, for a few moments, to control himself and his emotions. He grasped Hakyeon’s hand, his other hand going to Hakyeon’s shoulder, gripping tightly for a moment as if to reassure himself that Hakyeon was real under his touch. Then he let his grip loosen. He scoured Hakyeon’s face for injuries. There was a nasty cut on his forehead, which was where most of the blood seemed to be from, but his mouth was swollen. His lip was split, the cut already crusting over. 

Hakyeon leaned into him but said, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just my forehead.” He frowned, then winced. He turned to Jaehwan who was straightening up, holding a box of suture stitches. “This isn’t going to scar, is it?” he asked. 

Jaehwan looked exhausted. “You cover it up with your hair anyway,” he said. 

“I can’t have a scar on my forehead,” Hakyeon said. Taekwoon rubbed his thumb against the side of Hakyeon’s neck soothingly. 

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you developed it into such a big target,” Jaehwan said, a little snappily, before he went to the sink and turned the taps on, movements stiff.

Sanghyuk snorted. Taekwoon jerked his eyes away from Hakyeon and looked at Sanghyuk for the first time. He was propped up against the head of a nearby bed, looking decidedly worse for wear. Jaehwan hadn’t mentioned any injuries other than saying Sanghyuk had been shot. He was shirtless, bandages wrapped around his right shoulder and down his arm to hold them in place. His first two fingers on his left hand were bandaged together, a splint holding them out straight. One of his cheekbones looked bruised, and he was probably going to get a black eye. He was wincing like the snorting had caused him pain, his face older than it had been before. 

Taekwoon took a moment to look at him, letting the extent of the injuries sink in. Then he filed it away. Later. He would deal with that later. 

Jaehwan brought back a bowl of water, heat rising off it in wisps. He put it next to a pile of gauze on the side table. He soaked a piece of gauze in the water and then reached to dab away the blood from Hakyeon’s face. Taekwoon snatched it from him, faster than he meant to. Jaehwan drew back, scowling, and then motioned at Hakyeon. “Be my guest,” he said. 

Carefully, gently, Taekwoon began to clean the blood from Hakyeon’s face. Soon, the water was red and Jaehwan replenished the bowl with fresh hot water. Slowly, Hakyeon’s face came back into focus, worn out but beautiful. “Sorry,” Taekwoon murmured. “I should have been there.” 

Hakyeon sighed. “You can’t always be there, Taekwoon,” he said. He sounded so resigned to it that Taekwoon felt like shaking him. “It was— nobody saw it coming.” 

“I should have seen it coming,” Taekwoon said. “It’s my job. And— nothing is allowed to happen to you.”

Hakyeon smiled. He wasn’t quite looking at Taekwoon. He lifted his head to allow Taekwoon to wipe the crusted blood from under his chin. Taekwoon cupped the back of his head, ostensibly to give himself better access, but mostly just so he could feel Hakyeon’s hair soft against his hand, his skin warm against Taekwoon’s own.

He brushed Hakyeon’s hair from his forehead. It was tacky, sticking to Taekwoon’s hand. There _was_ a wound here, and not a small one. It was long but looked fairly shallow, thank God. It looked like someone had taken a swipe at him with—

“Is this a knife wound?” he asked, tilting Hakyeon’s head to the light to get a better look.

Hakyeon blushed, lifting a hand to cover Taekwoon’s against his cheek. “Yes. I already know I shouldn’t have let him get close enough. I got— distracted.” 

Taekwoon didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was lost in images of what might have happened, horror filling him at thought of the knife cutting across Hakyeon’s throat, a cut which couldn’t be so easily cleaned and then patched up with butterfly stitches.

“What distracted you?” he asked, murmuring. He had trained Hakyeon so much in the hope that during a fight, he would not get distracted, would know how to move to keep himself safe. But Hakyeon was not a natural fighter, and training could only go so far. 

Hakyeon swallowed. He pulled out of Taekwoon’s hold, wetting his lips in a nervous movement. “There was screaming,” he said quietly. “I thought— I was scared it was Sanghyuk.” 

Taekwoon looked at Sanghyuk, whose posture was relaxed even as his eyes were shut, his face drawn tight with pain. He was extremely pale under the harsh lights in the med bay. Jaehwan was fiddling with a blood bag, the scowl still on his face, looking at nobody in a way that felt very deliberate. 

“Christ,” Taekwoon said. “This is all my fault.” 

Hakyeon took his hand, squeezing it gently. “No, it’s not, Taekwoon.” 

“No,” said Taekwoon. He tugged his hand away and took a few steps away, shaking the rolled up sleeves of his sweater back down over his fingers in agitation. “No, I— Wonshik sent me photos on the way over here, of the scene. All of those guys had these weird tattoos on the inside of their wrists, and I just— I’ve been watching those guys for months, Hakyeon. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, I didn’t know what you knew and didn’t know, but I should have told you anyway, I shouldn’t keep things from you.”

Hakyeon smiled again, but this time it was right at Taekwoon. Even feeling wretched like he did, that smile still made Taekwoon’s stomach go into knots. “It’s funny seeing you flustered,” Hakyeon murmured. “It doesn’t happen very often.” 

Taekwoon said, very quietly, “Hakyeon.” 

“They’re working for the Lee family,” Hakyeon said with a sigh. “I know, Taekwoon.” 

“They’re part of the Lee family,” Taekwoon said. “But they’re working for the mayor.” 

Hakyeon’s head jerked up. Their eyes met and Taekwoon felt something settle inside him at the intent, calculating way Hakyeon was scanning his face. Taekwoon had always loved the way Hakyeon’s brain worked, the way he was always moving the chess pieces in his head to make sure he was five moves ahead of everyone else, no matter what move they made. It was relieving to see that what had happened hadn’t changed that. 

“What do you mean?” Hakyeon asked eventually. 

“For whatever reason, the Lee family is hiring some of their men to the mayor. That’s what the tattoos mean, they’re a sign that they belong to this secondary line. I doubt they can be connected back to the Lees in reality, but the connection is there. So far he seems to have used them just to intimidate his opponents into dropping out of the mayoral race, but knowing the Lee family, there’s something else in the background.” 

Taekwoon could see it in Hakyeon’s eyes, pieces falling into place in some puzzle that Taekwoon didn’t seem to be privy to. “They were trying to kidnap me,” Hakyeon said. 

Despite the fact that it hadn’t happened, Taekwoon felt his stomach clench at the thought. “What?” 

“The men who attacked me.” Hakyeon glanced at Sanghyuk and then away again, eyes skittering. “They weren’t trying to kill me, though they didn’t seem bothered about killing Sanghyuk, or at least heavily incapacitating him. I think they underestimated us— we were only two people, and there were at least four of them. If they were smarter, they should have killed Sanghyuk first thing.” 

“Hey,” complained Sanghyuk. It was not particularly loud but it was decidedly churlish, so at least he was still feeling somewhat like himself. Jaehwan began fiddling with the bandages at Sanghyuk’s shoulder, adjusting them, checking no blood was coming through. 

Hakyeon ignored the interruption. “They were willing to hurt me to achieve their goal, but killing me wasn’t it. They tried to get me into a van. Sanghyuk was clearly just collateral damage. But why—” He stopped for a few seconds, staring into the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was casual. Taekwoon knew him well enough to know it was forced. “You had Jaehwan watching him. He got spooked.” 

Taekwoon looked at him for a moment. He did not know what Hakyeon wasn’t telling him, was the problem. He didn’t know where to prod and pry to get Hakyeon to tell him, either. He had never had to do that before. Hakyeon always told him everything.

“If the mayor has the backing of the Lee family, then it’s no wonder he would want the other families to keep their nose out,” Hakyeon said. 

“He thinks we’re threatening his position,” Taekwoon said. 

Hakyeon laughed softly. “How right he was. I’ve been buying out the city council for months now.” 

This was the first Taekwoon had heard of it, and that realisation stung. “You have? Why?” 

“Leverage. It never hurts to have the authorities on your side.” He gave Taekwoon a clear-eyed look. “You taught me that.”

Taekwoon swallowed. The guilt and fear was a noxious miasma inside him, and it was going to take a long, long time before it felt okay again. But Hakyeon looking him at him like that helped, a little. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know that this would happen.” 

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon said patiently. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Well, apart from the giant fucking scar I’m going to have on my forehead.” He pulled at his bangs childishly. “It’s going to ruin all my good looks.”

Impulsively, Taekwoon leaned forward and kissed Hakyeon’s forehead, right next to the wound. It was just a soft, chaste press of lips and yet it felt like it was satisfying some deeper urge inside him. Maybe it was because this was likely all he would ever get. Hakyeon gaped at him. “You’re probably right,” Taekwoon said. “All your good looks are spoiled.”

Hakyeon smacked his arm, hard. Sanghyuk piped up with, “I’m the one who got really hurt, where’s my kiss?” 

“Ask Jaehwan,” Hakyeon said. Jaehwan ignored them all. He’d hooked the blood bag up to an IV and was still messing with the wires. It was not, Taekwoon knew from experience, a long process, but Jaehwan was dragging it out. 

Taekwoon straightened and looked at Sanghyuk. He would feel guilty over these words, too, even thought they needed to be said. “Sanghyuk,” he said. Sanghyuk blinked his eyes open. They were glassy, his focus barely there. It must have been taking all that was in him just to stay conscious. 

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Taekwoon said. He didn’t need to elaborate for Sanghyuk to know what he meant. He wasn’t angry or upset. He was simply factual. 

Sanghyuk dipped his head in what Taekwoon assumed was a nod and not just him unable to hold his head up any longer. “I know,” he said. 

“Taekwoon,” said Hakyeon, wrapping a hand around Taekwoon’s arm and trying to tug him back, tug him closer. Taekwoon went, drawn to him. “It wasn’t his fault. He did great.”

“And yet you still got injured,” Taekwoon said. 

Jaehwan whirled on them. Taekwoon had been able to feel his building anger, the resentment radiating off every part of Jaehwan’s body, and when it erupted, it was loud. “Don’t be such an asshole,” he said, voice almost echoing in the enclosed space. “You realise I had to dig a fucking bullet out of his shoulder? He may never be able to use that arm again properly, to say nothing of the two broken fingers and his bruised ribs. Save your goddamn disappointed father act for someone else, Taekwoon.” 

“Jaehwan,” said Sanghyuk softly. He put out a hand and pulled Jaehwan towards him, even though the movement clearly cost him. “It’s okay, he’s right.” 

“And don’t,” said Hakyeon, very mildly, “talk to Taekwoon like that.” 

Jaehwan went still for a long few heartbeats. The mild voice was dangerous and he had probably only heard it directed towards him once or twice in his time at Hakyeon’s side. He turned towards Sanghyuk, waited a beat, and then turned back around. He didn’t say anything as he came over to begin adding a butterfly stitch to Hakyeon’s forehead.

It did not take too long. Jaehwan worked silently and quickly, his heads steady. Taekwoon alternated between watching Jaehwan and watching Sanghyuk, who was humming a little under his breath, nonsense sounds clearly intended to keep him awake. Taekwoon was not sure why he wasn’t already asleep, but there must be some logic there. 

When the wound on Hakyeon’s forehead was stitched up, Jaehwan stepped back, avoiding Taekwoon’s eyes. Taekwoon touched his shoulder. “Jaehwan,” he said seriously. “Sanghyuk and I understand each other. We both signed up for something that has certain parameters. He didn’t fail tonight, but he— we know what our job is. It might be difficult for you to understand it, but I hope that you accept it. For your sake, and Sanghyuk’s.”

Jaehwan looked up at him, face inscrutable for once. He nodded after a moment and said, “Okay,” and moved out of Taekwoon’s grasp. He still did not look happy, and Taekwoon did not think that he quite understood what Taekwoon was saying, but he’d understood something. Perhaps it was just that he and Taekwoon had their connections that no one else quite understood. Jaehwan would have registered the implication of a relationship between him and Sanghyuk, and the acceptance and encouragement thereof. It was admirable that Jaehwan had leapt to Sanghyuk’s defence. But that wasn’t what Sanghyuk needed. He had never needed someone defending him.

Hakyeon eased himself off the bed. He looked steady when he got to his feet but Taekwoon put a hand on the base of his spine all the same. It was mostly for his own benefit anyway. “Taekwoon forgets that I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” Hakyeon said, but he leaned into the hand. “I killed one of those men myself.” 

Taekwoon guided him from the room, nodding at Jaehwan over his shoulder. “I’m so proud,” he said dryly, the door to the med room swinging shut behind them. 

Hakyeon shot him a look, a little amused, a little unimpressed. “Is Wonshik back yet?”

“No, but he’s on his way.” Taekwoon had called him after the photos came through and talked him through the steps Wonshik would need to take to make sure that this didn’t grow into something bigger than it had to be. Wonshik had done everything correctly: cleared the scene, made sure the police officers who arrived were in the Cha family pockets, moved the bodies to a Cha family funded morgue. It didn’t surprise Taekwoon, after all these years, that Wonshik was competent in these roles, but he could tell from the questioning way Wonshik relayed his actions that he did not quite believe he’d done anything right. He was happiest in his own territory, collecting rent money or waiting for targets on a rooftop. He did not like project management. 

They were climbing the stairs now, going slower than normal although Taekwoon did not mention anything about it. He saw Hakyeon wince at one point and said, more sharply than he meant to, “Are you hurt somewhere else?” 

“No,” said Hakyeon. “Just sore. Sanghyuk pushed me off at the beginning, I landed on my shoulder. It’ll probably bruise.” He chuckled, low in his throat. “You would have been proud of that shove.” 

Taekwoon had no doubt he would have been. He said nothing, though, and continued to help Hakyeon up, stair after stair. When they got to the second floor, Hakyeon turned as if to head to his office. Taekwoon tucked his arm around his waist and bodily turned him back onto the stairs. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, walking them both up to the third floor.

“Taekwoon, no,” Hakyeon said, although he didn’t actually struggle out of Taekwoon’s hold. “I have so much to do, I can’t just— I need to sort out this thing with the mayor, I need to do something about the Lee family, there’s so much to figure out.”

“I will handle it,” said Taekwoon firmly. “You need to rest. You were almost kidnapped today, Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon snorted. “The keyword there is _almost_.” 

Taekwoon did not deign that with an answer. He opened the door to Hakyeon’s room and ushered him through. Hakyeon tripped inside, already looking more tired than just a few seconds before now that he knew he didn’t have to hold it together. He slid his shoes off and wrenched his tie from around his neck like it was throttling him.

Hakyeon’s room was larger than Taekwoon’s. The floor and furnishings were dark wood, the walls and everything else pure white. It made the space look even bigger. There were plants on top of the dresser, large overflowing green things that Taekwoon had never seen Hakyeon actually care for but which never seemed to wither or die nonetheless. 

It had not escaped Taekwoon’s notice that Hakyeon seemed to prefer Taekwoon’s room over his own. But he liked Hakyeon’s room. It should have looked clinical, but it did not. Hakyeon’s bedroom seemed to reflect all the clean parts of him. 

Hakyeon sat down on his white bedspread and looked at Taekwoon still standing in the doorway. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped in defeat. For a moment Taekwoon thought about stepping into the room and locking the door after them and swallowing the key so that no one could disturb them again. Nobody would be able to hurt Hakyeon then. 

“Just a couple hours,” Hakyeon said. “Then I will get up and help you.” 

“Of course,” Taekwoon said. He had no intention of waking Hakyeon, so unless Hakyeon set an alarm for himself, he could sleep until morning for all Taekwoon cared. “Leave it to me, Hakyeon.” 

Hakyeon’s face crumpled for a moment. Taekwoon blinked but before he could say anything, Hakyeon got to his feet again and went into his ensuite bathroom. Taekwoon stood there for longer than necessary looking at the closed bathroom door. Then he closed the bedroom door with a soft click and went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ela ghostwrote the fight scene for me and i am very grateful bc fight scenes are my nemesis.


End file.
